Endwar: Breaking Point
by EtchedInDiamond
Summary: SEQUEL TO HaloSWEndwar. The Clone Wars are coming to an end. The Republic is slowly winning with the help of their newfound allies, the UNSC and the Confederation of Allied Species. However,when an old enemy returns, nothing will be as it seems...ON HOLD
1. Of Prophets and Emperors

**AN: Here it is! The second story in the Endwar saga. I hope you enjoy, because things are going to race by really quickly.**

**DISCLAIMER:**_** I do not own Halo or Star Wars. Those rights belong to Bungie (343 Industries) and LucasArts. Any character(s) or object(s) not included in each company's respective sagas are mine. The rest are theirs.**_

**1030 hours, May 14, 2576** **(Military Calendar) \ unknown coordinates…**

The Fleet of Impassioned Vengeance.

The last known remnant of the once-mighty Covenant hegemony. Comprised mostly of CCS-class battlecruisers, assault carriers, and corvettes, the fleet was a far cry from the majestic display of naval power of the former Covenant empire. One thing, however, reminded the dispassionate thousands sheltered inside the fleet of their old strength.

The Covenant Supercarrier _Unmerciful Fist_.

Two bulbous sections divided at the midsection, the prow ending in a curving hook. A steel-like metallic color different from the lavender sheen of the other ships. Gigantic, to say the least. A craft so overwhelming that not even a UNSC fleet could withstand its weaponry.

In this ship sat the High Triumvirate.

The Prophet of Reclamation pondered silently, wrinkled palm resting against his jutted chin. Dressed in elaborate robes fitting for a ruler of his status, he was the only San 'Shyuum worthy of the title of Highest Prophet. His cunning among the former Council earned him renown, yet he still could do nothing to prevent the downfall of the Covenant. He had many years to recuperate, however. Reclining on his ornate hover chair, he felt like he had all the time in the world.

"The wheel of time is turning ever faster," the Prophet of Enlightenment croaked beside him, purple skin sagging around his elongated neck. Being the most curious of the three, he would often make prophetic comments like this. "The events that have been foretold are approaching."

"Yet, my brother," The Prophet of Retribution wheezed harshly, chiding the other with a single mottled finger. He considered himself the strongest and most zealous of the High Triumvirate, and his sudden bouts of fury and violence accounted to that. "Our enemies wish to halt the Great Journey in its inevitable advance. We must crush them as they did us. Only then will our vengeance be enacted."

"Patience, fellow Prophets," Reclamation interjected, voice silky and smooth. He continued to stare out into space from the domed observation deck, mind churning in thought. "It is a virtue that should be treasured. One of you wished to stand by and wait for the Great Journey to commence, the other wishes to speed it using our own methods."

He swerved his decorated throne so he was facing the silent duo.

"I support both propositions. We must wait patiently for the glorious end, but also strive to reach it. It is a paradox, one in many during our fleeting lives. But the great Forerunners willed it, so we must follow it."

"How will we act?" Retribution asked fervently, laboriously leaning forward to catch the attention of his leader. "What shall we do to break the spines of our hated foes?"

During this moment, the main hatch opened, and a massive Jiralhanae clad in intricate crimson battle armor walked in the room. A polished headpiece covered most of his upper skull, curving down his temples and ending at hooked tips around his carefully groomed beard. The high-ranking Jiralhanae bowed in submission in front of the Prophets.

"Blessed Triumvirate," he recited, careful not to meet his eyes with theirs. "I bring good tidings from our loyal brother among the enemy."

"Rise, Alarus." Reclamation ordered.

The Jiralhanae Army Commander did so, standing proudly in his armor.

"Tell us what you have heard." Enlightenment said.

"Honored Prophets," he said, deep voice so low and scratchy it was almost a growl. "Our pack brother, who is masquerading as a friend of the traitors, has sent us the coordinates of the Holy Relic."

"The revered Gate World?" Retribution hacked delightedly.

"The very same, honored one."

"This is excellent news, Alarus," Reclamation said. "You are a most valuable asset indeed. Prepare the fleet, Commander."

"For invasion, exalted one?" Alarus inquired, although he already knew the answer. His blood sang for combat, and he relished the thought of doing battle with the Sangheili and humans once more.

"For war."

Alarus bowed and strode out of the Chamber, thinking excitedly of blood and battle.

"So it begins, my brothers…" Reclamation drawled, leaning back in his chair.

"War has finally come," Retribution cried weakly, slamming a feeble fist on the armrest of the throne. "It is time for this fleet to live up to its name!"

"The blood of our enemies will stain the ground once more, and the Great Journey will begin its fated transcendence."

"No longer will we wait in the shadows," Reclamation whispered. "No longer shall we wallow in the sea of self-pity that has drenched us."

His brothers agreed, nodding their heads passionately in silent approval.

"When fire, ash, and glass consume the souls of our enemies," they said in ardent unison. "The Covenant shall reign again."

**1030 hours, May 14, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant, Supreme Chancellor's Chambers**

"So," Chancellor Palpatine said. "The prophets begin their strike."

He exhaled, resting against his plush leather seat. Events had unfurled like a curtain, falling exactly where he had willed them to go. The UNSC and CAS were gaining public approval, sure, but all that would come to an end. He would make sure of it.

The holoprojector placed in front of him on the surface of his desk beeped, and the immaculate figure of Darth Tyrannus materialized into view. His digitalized form shifted spasmodically, a result of bad signaling and the heavy amounts of electronic obstructions put into place to keep out prying eyes. Palpatine straightened, demeanor transitioning from relaxed to serious.

"What is it, Tyrannus?" he asked, voice lowered to a sinister croak.

"My lord, the preparations are almost complete. OPERATION: FIST is in its finishing stages."

"And the Spartan?"

"He barely made it through. I must say, these warriors are of the toughest breed. He lasted at least twelve hours under the surgical procedures until he blacked out."

"I trust that you did not use anesthesia?"

"Of course not."

"Good," Palpatine smirked. "He will have experienced so much pain that his human mind will fold under the pressure. We will then remold him; make him ours. This "Reese" will be key to completing the project."

"Yes, indeed."

A sudden squawk burst from the hologram, dispersing the Count from bodily form then rematerializing.

"Hurry, Dooku. I sense the work of their infernal AIs."

"The Prophets are beginning their attack on Sector 01 as we speak. Our contact is approaching the Slipspace Activation Chamber, as we commanded. Soon, we will have powerful allies with us."

"It is not enough, I'm afraid. Our enemies our too strong even for the Confederacy's power. We must rely on our superior numbers until my plan comes into fruition. Then, and only then, will our empire rule."

"Very well. Tyrannus out."

His form dematerialized, and Palpatine crushed the tiny holopad with a clenched fist. All traces of their conversation were soon eradicated by the security software and AIs. He chuckled to himself, gathering his luxurious cloak about his pale body. Everything was coming together just as he had anticipated. He stood and faced the observation window, staring hard at the Jedi Temple in the distance.

"Soon, Jedi, you will all be dead." he whispered. "Then the Sith shall have their revenge."

**1100 hours, May 14, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Sector 01**

They came silently and swiftly, like sharks from beneath the depths of the sea.

They came with their sleek, bulbous ships, bringing fiery retribution down to the ambushed people below.

Forests were scorched to cinders, entire lakes vaporized to a wispy mist, and buildings obliterated.

Paradisio, the city under construction, was burned to the ground. The plan for a city so grand it would top even Sanghelious, was wiped away like a stain. Countless thousands died under the inferno of glass and heat, reminiscent of the Great War from years ago. The Defense Fleet, taken by surprise, rushed to the planet's defense.

They were crushed. The floating hulks of dead UNSC and CAS carriers, frigates, and destroyers drifted miserably in the heated atmosphere of the Gate World, sorely outnumbered and outgunned.

Jiralhanae Major Kartanus crouched beneath the shadows, dark beady eyes scanning the hectic Activation Room with determined patience. Adjusting his blue Power armor around his muscular, squat, and thickly furred body, he stepped out from behind the pillar.

"Kartanus!" one of the pack traitors called, covering his head from the rocks and debris that fell from the cracked ceiling. "They have ordered us to halt the beachfront advance! Come!"

"I do not obey your orders anymore, traitor." Kartanus growled, withdrawing his Spiker from his waist belt.

Curling a lip in mad satisfaction, he fired.

The glowing shards of needle-like projectiles raced across the room, hitting the other Jiralhanae's large chest. His shields brightened then depleted; the Brute Captain Ultra's eyes widened in surprise, then fury. By then, however, it was too late.

The Jiralhanae fell, body torn and bloody from the Spiker shots. Kartanus smirked and kicked the body with contempt. True, the captain had been fair, but his treachery to the Covenant was just too much.

Kartanus sprinted down the chaotic room, avoiding falling debris as he went. Soon, he heard the sound of gunfire and the whir of bullets as they trailed the Covenant spy in pursuit. The snarls of a Brute pack followed close behind, close enough he could feel their hot breath hit the back of his neck.

Giving a final roar, he leapt and grabbed the closest human he could find, a pale-faced young man wearing a ballistic helmet two times his size. Snapping the unfortunate man's neck, he grunted and slammed the human's open but limp palm down to the Coding Panel on the obelisk.

Kartanus dropped the dead human and turned, firing his Spiker with zealous rage.

"Long live the Covenant!"

A grizzly looking man in combat fatigues approached him, a cast slung around one arm and a metal brace supporting his torso. His wide, brown eyes shone with malicious hatred as he threw his assault rifle to the ground and flexed both his wiry, muscular arms.

"That boy served in my platoon, traitor." the man spoke, quivering voice barely a whisper. "I'll kill you with my bare hands…"

"You will try, puny human!" Kartanus barked. "The soldiers of the Covenant are the-"

The Marine charged the gloating Jiralhanae, wrapping both his arms around his wide midsection. Kartanus grunted in mild surprise but recovered, hammering the man with both his fists. The human male roared in pain and fury and let go, unsheathing a shining combat knife from its scabbard. Kartanus opened his mouth in challenge, not expecting that the act would prove to be his downfall.

First Sergeant Holloway jammed the serrated knife into the Brute's open maw, earning a choked whimper of pain and shock.

"That's for humanity, bastard." The veteran snarled, twisting the blade forcefully.

Kartanus gurgled blood, moving his eyes up to the cracked open ceiling. The faint, purple-blue underside of a Covenant cruiser filled the open space. He lifted a weak arm, as if to try to grasp the ship from where he lay.

Holloway pushed the arm down with open contempt and wrenched the knife free from the Jiralhanae's face. The Brute made a quiet noise then went still.

Holloway gasped, trying unsuccessfully to stand. A pack of Brutes raced over to him, propping him up with their strong limbs.

"You fought with the strength of ten of us, Sergeant Holloway," one of the Brute Minors remarked, a little begrudgingly. "The Jiralhanae shall sing of your courage one day."

"Yeah, yeah." Holloway breathed, waving a flaccid hand. "That's good and all, but we've got a big problem."

He pulled away from the primate-like aliens' grip, eyes focused on the gigantic portal that had formed above the planet. Covenant after Covenant were being dragged into the azure vortex, followed closely by the newly arrived 117th Fleet. As the portal closed, he sighed.

"This war just got a whole lot more complicated."

**AN: How'd you like it? It wasn't my best, I can tell you that. It'll have to do for the meantime. Anyways, feedback and constructively criticize. R&R! **

**P.S: Who's excited for Halo 1 Anniversary (November 2011) and Halo 4 (Holiday 2012)? I know I am!**

**FOREVER REMAIN ETCHED IN DIAMOND**


	2. Plans and Preparations

**1423 hours, May 28, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Mustafar System, Mustafar**

The dropship slowly hovered its way into position, blue-purple hull reflecting the glaring shine of the fires of Mustafar. Lava bubbled and sprung into the blistering air, falling with a smoky sizzle back to the flames from which they were spawned.

Jiralhanae Army Commander Alarus huffed, jumping to the landing zone below. He warily surveyed the scorching landscape. Night-black, austere edifices perched atop the dark crags edging the molten river. A thin metal walkway jutted from the landing pad, ending at a blocky building centered with a glass observatory window. He nodded in silent approval and turned back to the Phantom.

"Come, honored ones." he affirmed, waving over to the open side hatch.

Three lavishly robed San 'Shyuum seated atop decorated hover thrones floated down to the metal surface. They were covered in a domed transparent alloy to protect themselves from the heat. Unggoy in humped methane tanks attended to the Prophets, chattering amongst themselves excitedly. Alarus watched as the Jiralhanae Honor Guard dismounted from the transport, looking imperious in their elaborate armor. Orange, curving headpieces adorned their furred skulls; Alarus thought they looked quite ridiculous. He longed for his own personal guard, but they were seeing to the fleet. Alarus fiddled with his crimson battle armor and spied thin yellow machines walking over to them, scrawny limbs holding on to a black plasma rifle. Alarus choked back a fit of laughter, although he did scoff in contempt as they approached him. If these were the warriors that fought against the UNSC, he was not surprised why they were losing.

"Honored guests," one of them droned monotonously. "The council awaits your arrival. Follow us, please."

They proceeded to lead the entourage down the walkway. Alarus followed, looking back to the High Triumvirate.

"Come."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The High Prophet of Reclamation carefully dabbed his wrinkled, soggy face with a damp handkerchief, swearing to the gods that as soon as he takes control of this galaxy, he would obliterate this infernal planet.

Even inside the oxygen-supported cooling tank, the blistering heat affected the frail San 'Shyuum greatly. He cursed, looking at his brothers through sweat-blanketed eyes.

The High Prophet of Enlightenment was wheezing horribly, droplets of blood-mingled saliva hitting the glass dome that covered him. The High Prophet of Retribution's expression was one of tortured toleration. His ancient face was screwed in an agonized pinch. Reclamation chuckled in amusement but ended up hacking out saliva. Finally, they made it to the entrance.

The scrawny mechanical abomination pressed a control pad beside the door, and the hatch slid open. The Prophets rushed in frantically, almost bumping against each other in their hurry to get in. They knocked over a droid in front of them.

Reclamation saw Alarus slam a booted foot down onto the machine's elongated neck, sending a flurry of sparks into the air. Its comrades lifted their weapons hesitantly, defense measures screaming at them to eliminate the threat. However, their officers had ordered them not to harm the guests, so they dropped their weapons.

The primate in scarlet armor grinned at them, revealing his sharp incisors.

They came to the end of the corridor, waiting as the door to the room opened. A polished table was positioned at the center of the room. Around the room attached to the walls were various control panels. Several droids and Mustafarians were seated at the controls, busily working.

A hologram of the Confederacy of Independent System's symbol hovered above the center of the table, a hexagon with lines centering to a smaller, solid-blue hexagon. A simple picture, but one that had instilled fear into the hearts of countless citizens.

Darth Tyrannus, formerly known as Count Dooku, stood at the far edge of the red-rimmed counter, smiling politely. The smile did not reach his eyes however, Reclamation noticed. His solid black eyes glared maliciously, like the aquatic demons Reclamation had observed during a short stay on Earth with the deceased Prophet of Truth. Sharks. Tyrannus waved over to a hollow space next to the filled table.

"We are honored to have you part of the Confederacy of Independent Systems," the dark noble drawled. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

"My thanks, Dooku." Reclamation replied and proceeded to hover towards the empty space, followed by his fellow Prophets. Their guards walked to the side, the massive primates dwarfing the miniscule midgets.

Tyrannus' eyes twitched at the mention of his real name. _These crones have the audacity to call me by my last name_, he seethed inwardly. _No matter, they will be dealt with accordingly at the end of all this_.

Tyrannus sat down, clasping his hands together on the table surface.

"Now we are all here. First and foremost, I would like to introduce you to the Separatist Council. For formalities, I assure you."

The Sith apprentice gestured to a green-skinned Neimoidian in black dress robes.

"Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation. His fellow officers Rune Haako, Settlement Officer of the Trade Federation and Rute Gunnay, his personal aide."

The alien stood and lifted a palm in polite distaste, toad-like eyes bulging from their sockets. Reclamation decided he did not like the Neimoidian race, and merely lifted a delicate finger.

"San Hill, Chairman of the InterGalactic Banking Clan."

A tall, dome-headed humanoid dressed in an immaculate black suit stood and smiled at the Covenant representatives.

"Poggle the Lesser, Archduke of Geonosis and his aides. Sun Fac, his Chief Lieutenant is attending to domestic matters."

A small insectoid donning gray armor and a beard looked at the Prophets, beady eyes leering rudely. His transparent wings fluttered for a bit as he broke his gaze.

"Shu Mai, Presidente of the Commerce Guild, and her aide, Cat Miin."

Tiny female aliens with wrinkled blue skin, elongated necks ringed with silver bands, and small shriveled heads topped with an elaborate head piece stood gracefully, waving their palms politely.

"Wat Tambor, Foreman of the Techno Union, Executive of Baktoid Armor Workshop, and Senator of Skako."

A large being in a metal pressure mask and suit jerked robotically, his arms moving in what seemed to be a greeting.

"Passel Argente, Senator of Kooriva…"

The introductions seemed to take lifetimes, and Reclamation swore he could hear Enlightenment snoring quietly. Finally, when the last councilor sat, Tyrannus indicated to the Covenant.

"Now, for our revered guests, the High Triumvirate of the Covenant: The High Prophet of Reclamation, the High Prophet of Retribution, and the High Prophet of Enlightenment."

Reclamation smiled thinly, as did his brothers.

Tyrannus grinned back.

"Now that we are all here, let us begin."

The hologram dispersed and rematerialized into the hated symbol of the UNSC, then to the CAS. Lastly, the insignia of the Republic followed.

"The United Nations Space Command, the government of the newly found galaxy that has continued to pulverize our forces wherever we fight."

"The Confederation of Allied Species, a government from the same galaxy as the UNSC, and once bitter enemies. This is the faction that had broken away from the Covenant religion, according to our late informer."

Tyrannus looked to Reclamation and the Prophet nodded in affirmation.

"They are governed by a council of 'Sangheili', and militarily led by Rtas 'Vadumee and the Arbiter, Thel Vadam. Both are tremendous warriors, as shown in their numerous military campaigns against our droid army. Rtas' skill set showed considerably in the Mygeeto campaign. As a leader and a fighter, he is a force to be reckoned with. The Arbiter is no pushover himself. He single-handedly fought against our very own General Grevious, who is attending to pressing matters at the moment."

"Why are we discussing this?" Gunray inquired, wagging a pudgy finger. "We know of these details."

"Bear with me, Viceroy." Dooku replied, not even looking at him. "The UNSC has their fair share of contenders. Their infantry is second to none; not even the Grand Army of the Republic can match its skill. We have all seen them in action. The Army Ranger battalion on Dantooine, the Marine Corps. on Kashyyyk. The Orbital Drop Shock Troopers slaughtered the Geonosians during the Station 13 siege. We have even heard of so called Delta Force halting an assassination attempt on Naboo."

"Are we here to simply listen to a list of our most hated enemies, Tyrannus?" Shu Mai croaked. "If so, then I shall leave this hell-hole you call a planet."

"Hold your peace, Mai. I am getting to the point. Anyways, the list goes on and on. One certain group, however, has crippled our fleets and ground forces with terrible damage."

The hologram polarized and shifted to an armored giant, a figure resembling heroes of old.

"Demons," Reclamation gasped, hooded eyes fixed unto the picture.

"Spartans. The famed supersoldiers of the UNSC Navy. They are unbelievably strong, blindingly fast, and smart enough to trick a whole fleet into drifting into a mine field."

Dooku was referring to the Outer Rim incident, where several UNSC Prowlers set a trap for a CIS fleet intending to recapture Felucia. The SPARTAN-IVs had commandeered a stolen Separatist capital ship and led the unsuspecting armada into the deadly trap. Ejecting just in time, the soldiers watched as the fleet exploded.

"They are the epitome of the soldier, and not even the CAS' Special Operations or the Republic's ARCs can match their fighting prowess."

"They are the best," San Hill grumbled. He rubbed a patch of bandages behind his lanky shoulder. "One of them shot me through several layers of dense smoke."

"What if I told you, my council, that we managed to procure one?"

The Council Room was silent. Reclamation's mouth was working soundlessly as he digested the information. Alarus perked up, growling slightly at the mention of the Spartans.

"Also, what if I told you that we have figured out the majority of the technology wrought to bring this soldier into existence?"

Silence.

"In addition, what if I told you he is in this very room?"

The council erupted at that, jumping out of their chairs in confusion and fear. Reclamation hovered backwards, cocooned by his guards. Tyrannus merely smiled, standing calmly amidst a sea of terror. San Hill was cowering underneath the table, giant hands clasped around his head in fright.

Alarus withdrew his ancient gravity hammer, swirling it in a deadly arc. He jumped atop the table, curling a lip as he carefully scanned the room.

An orange flash rushed from the rafted ceiling, colliding against the Jiralhanae Army Commander. Alarus grunted in pain as he hit a power conduit behind him. Looking through squinted eyes, he saw the Demon.

Clad in tarnished MJOLNIR Mark-VI armor, he was an intimidating figure. Easily transcending seven feet, he seemed taller than before. A single golden visor stared at Alarus blankly, sending shivers down the Jiralhanae's spine. The Spartan said nothing as he jumped off the table and walked towards Alarus. Alarus snorted and stood, grasping his hammer in determined readiness. He bellowed and charged.

The Spartan met the rush, pivoting to his right and clutching the Brute's hairy right palm. The Spartan lifted the hammer and kneed the Jiralhanae in the solar plexus, earning a pained grunt. The supersoldier followed with a flat palm strike to the Brute's temple, sending Alarus crashing to the ground.

"That is enough, Reese." Tyrannus stated.

Reese picked up the gravity hammer and raised it above his head for the killing blow.

"I said, **that is enough**."

Reese's hands shook, but he finally lowered the instrument. He let it fall on top of the heaving Alarus. The Spartan walked calmly towards his master, as if nothing had happened. San Hill scrambled out of his way, whimpering like a pup. Dooku grinned and clasped Reese's shoulder.

Or what was once Reese.

"My feeble friends, this is our future. We have successfully bended this man to our will. He will do anything we command."

"How did you accomplish this?" Retribution wheezed, still hiding behind his bodyguards in terror.

"Simple. We captured him from the Station 13 fiasco and conducted experiments on him. We learned that he was trained from a very young age, and injected with several genetic enhancements, such as carbide ceramic ossification, the implementation of advanced material in order to make the subject's bones nearly unbreakable."

The council muttered at this, and Tyrannus noticed Wat Tambor's gaze fixed unto the still Spartan.

"For a government so inferior to us, their scientists have achieved something we have never been able to do. With these warriors, they won against enemies that were far superior."

He paused for dramatic effect, leaning forward and seemingly catching the eyes of everyone in the room.

"That, my friends, is what we will do."

"Operation: FIST." Poggle the Lesser warbled.

"Correct," Dooku responded. "Operation: FIST will try to replicate these Spartans, using their genetic enhancements and cloning technology."

"Where we will obtain the cloning procedures? The Republic holds Kamino, and the Kaminoans are a fickle race." Passel Argente asked.

"Our forces are acting as we speak. We have deployed five squads of BX-series droid commandos to the Kamino labs. The Republic is getting lax due to the additional help, so the job will be easy. They will obtain the cloning procedures from Kamino and bring them to us."

"They will have security, no doubt." Reclamation said for the first time since Reese entered the room. Even then, his eyes were still fixed unto the Spartan. "From our former collaboration, you have told me that this 'Kamino' is the birth place of all of the Republic's clone troopers."

"You are right, Prophet. Completely right. This will not be much of a problem, however, since the majority of their forces are committed to the Outer Rim. Plus, these are commando droids. They are no pushovers."

Reclamation nodded in satisfaction.

"Then what will we do after that?" Enlightenment croaked. "Surely you do not have much time before the combined force of these three governments destroys you."

"We will not be destroyed, Prophet of Enlightenment," Tyrannus said, a little scolding. "My master and our leader, Darth Sidious, has a fool-proof plan that will earn us victory over the trio of super powers. Also, we are planning a full-scale assault on the Core Worlds. All spearheaded by Sidious."

"Surely he cannot be that masterful. One must be quite powerful to accomplish such a task." Retribution replied.

"He is, my friend. I assure you, he is."

"Well then," Reclamation said, hands clapping together in finality. "What are we waiting for? We have a war to win."

**0930 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant**

PFC Wallace Rearback was having a good day.

A straight-out city boy, working at the UNSC Embassy on Coruscant was close to a dream-come-true. Strolling through the busy streets, catching the eyes of several beautiful females, it sure beat the Outer Rim sieges.

Dressed in his combat gear, he swaggered down the city sidewalk, brushing his curly brown hair proudly.

Being drafted in the middle of the Recuperation Era, the time after the Great War and the political rise of the UNSC as a galactic superpower, was a happy period for Rearback. He never was much of a fighter anyways; he just wanted to enlist for the title. Those were the days: Slurping coffee with his teammates, touring around Emerald Cove, seeing some lovely ladies. The only downside was the constant threat of the Insurrectionists. He remembered one dreadful night in Babylonia IV. He and his team were ordered to quell a rebellion in the city. The feel of the cold metal against his hands and the roar of gunfire still haunted him to this day.

Well, all that was behind him.

He smiled as he caught the gaze of a well-dressed, blue-skinned Twi'lek female among the heavy throng of individuals. She grinned slightly as he winked in playful flirtation. Just as he was about to approach her, the ground rumbled ominously. The crowd of people paused in their daily lives, looking about in confusion.

Up above, the sky traffic ceased in puzzlement, speeders slowing down mid-flight.

Suddenly, the sky boomed, and bright shafts of energy lanced from the atmosphere and struck a nearby business spire. The tower groaned, blocks of metal and glass showering down to the streets below. People screamed in terror and tried to flee; those who were too slow were lost amid the rubble. More turbolasers fired from space, raining down on Galactic City.

Rearback crouched to the ground, hands clasped around his ballistic helmet. Yellow words swirled around his green eyepiece. He tried to read them, but another barrage brought him to the ground.

Crowds were running in a mass exodus to safety, and Rearback saw several Coruscant Security Force barges picking up frightened citizens from the floor and atop building roofs. The unfortunate Marine's COM crackled as Command blurted out the news.

"_Coruscant is under attack, I repeat, Coruscant is under attack. All available ground forces converge to Battalion HQ. 3__rd__ Fleet, assist the Republic Defense Fleet. It is suspected that Grevious in command of the invading fleet. Engage and give no quarter."_

There was a loud crackle, and the sound of an explosion blasted through the mike.

"_Contact, contact! Droids are being deployed on the surface! Lewinsky, give me the radio! Lay down suppressing fire! God, where's the-"_

Static.

Rearback groaned and stood wearily. The crowd was beginning to thin, and a spot of blue caught his eye. The female Twi'lek he saw earlier was trapped under a fallen light post, and she was screaming for help. Rearback cursed and raced over to the citizen, avoiding rushing people. He ducked as another laser struck a subway railing. Lifting the post, he carefully picked up the unconscious alien.

He bore the brunt of her weight on his back, limping away steadily as he prayed that he would not get vaporized.

"Oh, Wallace Rearback, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

The invasion of Coruscant had begun. 


	3. High Priority Asset 2

**AN: WHEW! SOO SOORRY! The reason I haven't been able to write is because of my church summer camp in Florida (16 hour bus drive-nuff said) and a severe case of writer's block. I'll try to update sooner, but I can't guarantee anything. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Halo or Star Wars. Those right belong to Bungie (343 Industries) and LucasArts. Any character(s) or object(s) not included in each company's respective sagas are mine. All the rest are theirs.**_

**0950 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, Business Sector 36C **

The acrid stench of smoke and diesel fuel filled the air. Gagging, PFC Wallace Rearback quickly withdrew a white handkerchief from his belt pocket, covering his mouth and nose from the putrid odor. As he lugged the unconscious Twi'lek through the abandoned city streets, he saw the source of the smell.

A ruined Warthog lay smoldering on the ground, wreathed in flames. The three bodies of the unfortunate soldiers manning it were sprawled on the ground, limbs splayed in awkward angles. Their features were burned beyond recognition. Rearback choked back bile and looked away, eyes watering.

The sounds of pitched battle could be heard echoing throughout the city. They seemed to come from all directions; and seeing that the very size of Coruscant was tremendous, that was not much of a surprise. Above them, the hum of aircraft reverberated across the sky, and a brief shadow of a Pelican passed over them.

"HEY! Hey, over here! I need help!" he yelled. His COM crackled suddenly as he spoke.

"_I've got two Separatist bombers on my tail! I need assistance, ASAP! I'm carrying the cargo from the embassy! Please-"_

The steel-gray Pelican swerved to the right, and Rearback saw its aft hatch burning heavily. Smoke rose from the wound; the Marine could see that the pilot was struggling to gain altitude. The ship wobbled, narrowly avoiding the tinted glass surface of a Galactic City skyscraper.

Suddenly, two Trade Federation droid bombers appeared from behind a business spire, unleashing a hail of laserfire towards the injured UNSC craft. Rearback yelled out a warning, but the Pelican caught flame.

"_Mayday, mayday! I'm hit! Can't…hold…on! Brace yourselves, men!" _

The private cursed and ducked, dodging the rain of fiery debris. The main hull of the Pelican groaned and crashed against the tower, burying its nose through the glass windows.

Rearback waited for the two CIS bombers to fly away, and then left the safety of the shadows. Picking up the fallen Twi'lek, he trudged onwards, warily scanning the once hectic city floor. He looked up at the smoking Pelican.

"There might be some survivors," he muttered to himself.

Groaning, he carefully set the Twi'lek under a pedestrian bench and walked towards the direction of the business tower.

**1000 hours, May 30, 2576, (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, UNSC Embassy**

Today was not a good day for Corporal Damon Lewinsky.

The definition of a good day for the frustrated Marine was chilling inside the Coruscant nightclubs, or having a good cup of Joe with his men. Maybe even visiting the Jedi Temple for a quick immersion in the foreign galaxy's history. All that was fine and dandy for the thirty-two year old corporal.

None of those ideas included being attacked by a droid army in his own goddamned office building.

He peered over his makeshift barricade of secretary desks and swivel chairs. The droids were advancing towards the marble steps of the UNSC embassy, causing the perimeter defense to fall back inside the building. Lewinsky's right-hand-man, Lance Corporal Jimmy Hayes, sprinted into the embassy, clutching a bandaged palm. He crouched down beside his friend.

"We lost seven out there," Hayes relayed, rubbing his stubble in frustration. "They're really pushing us back."

"At least we were able to send the package," Lewinsky replied. "Let's just hope they realize that what they're trying to capture is gone then leave."

Hayes snorted, rising and walking back to the cubicles where the majority of the men were setting up.

"Like hell, corporal."

Lewinsky ignored him and promptly reloaded his battle rifle, realizing that he was down to one magazine. Pursing his lips, he flicked back the clip and aimed down the scope over his hastily erected cover. He fired three quick bursts, jerking back at the recoil. He was rewarded with the sound of metal against tiled flooring: a droid falling.

"Sir, where's Bradley? SATCOM wants a hold of him!"

The corporal turned to see PFC Javier Jimenez crawling towards him, a radio transmitter clutched in his hands. His armor was a mess, covered in plasma scores and tears. His ballistic helmet bore a giant hole on the top.

"KIA," Lewinsky muttered, taking the radio from his subordinate's palms. He indicated with his thumb at a charred corpse slumped against the atrium reception desk. "Smoked by destroyer droids."

"Christ," Jimenez whispered, tearing his eyes away from the sight. "You can't even tell it's him."

"Well, soldier, you'll end up just like him if you don't man up."

Lewinsky raised the radio up to his ear.

"_Hello? Is anyone there?"_

The corporal recognized the voice as Admiral Vick Rawlins, the commander of 3rd Fleet. Lewinsky reasoned that whatever the man needed to say must've been important. He cleared his throat.

"Sir, this is Corporal Damon Lewinsky. 2nd Infantry Brigade."

There was a silence as the admiral processed the information.

"_Bradley's dead, I presume?_"

"As a doornail, admiral."

"_His death is unfortunate, to say the least. Knew him personally; he was a good man. Anyways, I take it that High Priority Asset 2 has been sent away?"_

"Left five minutes ago, sir. Saw to it myself. I sent it on a Pelican and five UH-140 Falcons, Admiral Rawlins. They should be nearing the designated location."

"_Well, son, I took it upon myself to personally take my ship _Summer's Day _through enemy lines and down to Coruscant's atmosphere to secure the Asset. Guess what?"_

Lewinsky gulped and wiped his brow with his free hand.

"It hasn't yet arrived, sir?"

"_You bet it hasn't, sonny boy. We just repelled a posse of bombers a few minutes ago, and I don't want to deal with any more enemies, Supercarrier or not."_

"Sir, if you're suggesting we find the Pelican, we don't even-"

"_We picked up a distress signal from a worried pilot a few minutes ago. I wasn't sure it was yours so I called you up. We can't do it ourselves because we're being harassed by six CIS frigates as we speak. The ODST attachment is busy defending the Jedi Temple, and we need the SPARTAN-IV up here. They're prepping to rescue the Chancellor from Grevious."_

Lewinsky sputtered quite unprofessionally and almost dropped the cord.

"The Chancellor's been taken?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"_Never mind that, corporal. You need to head to that crashed Pelican and retrieve the Asset. If you're worrying about the embassy, don't bother. It was doomed from the start._"

"I understand, sir." Lewinsky replied, a weight sinking into his stomach.

"_Gather your men and head down the sewers towards Business Sector 36C. There'll be signs in the tunnels. Once you're on the surface look for an AlderaanMotors spire. You'll recognize it by the gaping hole in the windows._"

"Got it, sir."

_"Once you've retrieved the Asset, head to the Senate Building. I can't afford to bring it up on my ship considering the amount of enemies I'm attracting. The Senate Building is the most secure place on the planet, so I'm hoping you can keep it safe until this whole fiasco is over. Godspeed, gentlemen."_

The connection cut. Lewinsky sighed and pressed the radio to his stomach.

"What'd he say, sir?" Jimenez inquired shakily over the din of laser and gunfire.

"We're moving out."

Lewinsky rose from his crouch and approached his men, twenty-nine in all.

"We're leaving the embassy, men. Lasko, take the turret and provide covering fire," he pointed to a mounted chaingun ringed with protective sandbags. "Hanson, set up some mines as we leave. Gil, delete all information regarding the UNSC, the CAS, and the Republic from the database."

"On it, sir."

Lewinsky walked down a side hall and opened a door, revealing a metal hatch. He twisted a handlebar turned with effort, opening the entrance. A putrid stench wafted from the hole, causing a collective groan of disgust.

"Jesus, corporal," Hayes moaned, covering his mouth and nose with a stained palm. "Do we have to go down there?"

"You want to stay here and welcome the droids in yourself, kid?" Lewinsky responded, glaring at his subordinate officer.

"No way, sir."

"Then get in!"

Reluctantly and with much cursing, the lance corporal stepped on the first ladder rung and began his descent. The others soon followed, looking back and forth from the atrium to the sewer hatch as it torn between which alternative. Lewinsky rolled his eyes and ushered the last man, Hanson, in. The clattering of the chaingun suddenly stopped, and the corporal looked over the corner to check why.

Lasko was lying against the turret, half his skull blown off and plastered against the sandbags. Steam still rose from the horrific wound. Lewinsky cursed and dropped into the Stygian blackness.

The smell immediately entered his nostrils, and it took all his will not to throw up. The gray tunnel walls were covered in muck and grime, and the ankle-high water was filled with waste and God-knows-what.

His men were looking absolutely miserable. Hayes grimaced as he withdrew his boot from a pile of squishy green crap. Lewinsky grinned and sloshed through his men, looking like a civilian in the park.

"You can press that detonator anytime now, Hanson."

"With pleasure, sir."

The private pressed a button, and an explosion sounded above the tunnels. And another. And another.

"You left quite a surprise there, soldier." Lewinsky commended.

"Felt it was right for those bastards."

Lewinsky laughed as the group pressed onwards through the gloomy sewer line. _Looks good on the surface_, the corporal thought about Galactic City, _but horrible underneath._

**1010 hours, May 30, 2576, (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, AlderaanMotors branch office**

Rearback lifted his assault rifle as the elevator doors opened with a pleasant beep. Sweat ran down his brow as he scanned the dark room. The civilians had shut down all the power after they left, it seemed. The only light shining through the cubicle-filled office room was from the windows up ahead. Rearback swallowed and stepped gingerly into the room. His boots clacked against the polished floor of the office, and his heavy breathing echoed throughout the empty room.

After checking each cubicle, he approached the windows.

He had reached the thirtieth floor via the elevator, estimating that it was the floor the Pelican crashed. He looked down on the city streets. Abandoned speeders lay across the empty lanes, and the Warthog wreckage could be seen burning to his right. He was about to pull away when something caught his eye.

Out of a side alley marched a pack of Brutes.

Rearback was about to fist-pump in celebration when he noticed something different. These Brutes moved more cautiously, looking around as they detached themselves from the shadows and entered the bright open streets. Instead of the steel-gray armor the Confederation of Allied Species gave them to wear, they wore menacingly spiked light blue battle dress. A large one hefting a gigantic gravity hammer and bearing an elaborate headpiece swaggered among the pack, pointing here and there. Judging by the holobooks back at home, these Brutes were more like Covenant soldiers.

Rearback's heart began to hammer inside his chest as he watched the Brutes pick through the remains of the charred Marines by the Warthog. To the private's immediate revulsion, one of them began to gnaw a corpse's arm.

The chieftain growled and pulled the savages away from the ruin, pointing towards the business tower. They walked to the doors of the spire, disappearing from Rearback's view.

The Marine's heart was beating like a staccato drum. The evil Brutes were heading for the same thing he was: the Pelican wreckage. He cursed and stamped his foot in frustration. Gripping his rifle with tight fingers, he figured the only way to go was up.

"You can do this, Wallace," he said to himself reassuringly. "Just check the Pelican, and hopefully there'll be survivors. They can help you fight the Brutes. After all, there are only six of them."

Sounds of loud barking and growling drew the Marine's attention back to the window.

Rearback counted a total of thirty Brutes swarming out of the alleyways, rushing excitedly to the spire.

The spire that PFC Wallace Rearback was in.

**1015 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, Business Sector 36C**

"Hallelujah, we're through!"

Lewinsky snorted as he watched Hayes clamber out of the sewer hatch and dance in celebration. The rest of the group climbed out of the hatch and breathed satisfactorily. They were in an empty city street, papers and speeders lying abandoned on the road. A burning Warthog wreckage lay to their right.

"You look like a fag, Hayes." One of his men, PFC Bores, commented.

"Shut it, Bores."

The Marines laughed, and Lewinsky found himself joining. He regained his composure, however, and sternly reprimanded his men.

"We'll have none of that now, soldiers. We're on a high-risk mission."

They grumbled at that, and the corporal found himself wishing he had wound up with an ODST unit instead of this rabble. Biting his lower lip, he pointed at a towering spire. A jagged hole had been created high up near the top, obviously the Pelican crash.

"There's the objective, men. Let's move."

They began to move, Hayes and Hanson bringing up the rear. All twenty-eight of them crowded near the open entrance. A musky odor entered Lewinsky's nostrils, and his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"Smells like dog, corporal. Weird, huh?" Hayes remarked.

"Yeah," Lewinsky muttered quietly. "Weird."

He stepped into the dark office building.

**1020 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, AlderaanMotors branch office, Pelican crash site**

Rearback lifted a fist and rapped lightly on the locked metal door.

"PFC Wallace Rearback, UNSC. Open up," he said, looking back nervously, expecting a a pack of Brutes to pop up out of nowhere and eat him.

The door opened, revealing the faces of four soot-stained Marines. Rearback almost fainted in relief. He staggered into the room, supported by the soldiers.

"You hurt, kid?" one of them, a mustached giant with a Texan accent, grunted.

"No," the private breathed. "Just relieved."

The Pelican occupied over half the room, and motes of dust floated in the light of the sun that filtered through the open window. Rearback peered through the cracked cockpit of the dropship and saw two slumped shapes.

"Hurley and Dan," said a black man in shades. He was holding an M319 Individual Grenade Launcher at his side. "Didn't make it."

"I can see that."

"I'm Major Jackson," the man in shades said.

Sensing a long list of introductions, Rearback nodded and shook his gloved hand.

"Master Sergeant Tanner," the big Texan said.

"Chief Petty Officer Ling." said a short but muscular Asian man with a crew cut.

"Master Chief Petty Officer First-class Leone." a bald white man with a scar running down his jaw grunted, eyes locked on the door.

Rearback noticed something about the men. They were all wearing mottled brown camouflage, and a black helmet with a night vision attachment. When Tanner turned to pick up a fallen cartridge from the floor, he saw an insignia patched onto the man's shoulder. A golden eagle clutching a gun and trident.

"You're SEALs?" Rearback whispered in awe.

Tanner looked up in confusion, but realized what the private saw.

"Yeah, we're SEALs. We were originally stationed on the partly constructed orbital platforms above the planet, but we were sent down to the embassy for some technical issues I can't remember. Then, the CIS ambushed the city, and we were pushed into a Pelican to defend some Asset and sent away."

"Where's the asset?" Wallace asked, rising from the fallen drawer he was sitting on.

"Here," Ling said. He walked over to the aft hatch of the Pelican and withdrew a lantern-like cylinder. Its middle was shining with a blue light, and Rearback seemed entranced by the thing.

Suddenly, sounds of growling and footsteps were heard outside the room. Leone walked over to the closed windows and fingered a blind, seeing the spectacle.

"Brutes," he warned. "And they don't look like ours." The SEAL cursed and stalked over to the bewildered private, clutching him by the collar and lifting him with one arm.

"How come you didn't tell us Covenant Jiralhanae were trailing you?" he asked, seething.

"I-it didn't cross my m-mind at the time!" Rearback stammered.

"Drop him, Leone!" hissed Jackson. The man pulled the officer away from the gibbering private. "You know the drill, soldier."

"Yes, sir."

The Brutes began to pound on the door, roaring out guttural commands in their harsh language. Ling and Tanner set up on each side of the door, clutching battle rifles in their hands. Leone, with an assault rifle, and Jackson with his grenade launcher, hid behind two desks. Jackson gestured for Rearback to join him.

"Fire when I say fire, private. These Brutes are tough, but they're not invincible. I take it that this is your first time against aliens?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, boy, you're in for a party."

The door pushed open with a crash.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The sounds of gunfire erupted from somewhere above Lewinsky's men. Hayes looked up at the ceiling and squinted.

"What in God's name is happening?"

"I don't know, but we better find out." Lewinsky replied. "Williams, take point! Head for the stairs."

The Marine jogged out of the office room, followed closely by the other men. He reached the stair steps when he stopped. Hanson collided against his back and cursed.

"Quiet!" Williams ordered, eyes fixed on the top of the winding staircase.

"What is it, private?" Lewinsky asked quietly.

The young Marine pointed at a pair of large blue armored boots. Lewinsky gestured for the men to stay put and then gingerly climbed the stairs. When he reached the top, he saw the broad back of a, judging by the armor, Covenant Brute. It seemed he was guarding the stairs while a whole two dozen of his friends were attacking an office room. His back was turned; he was obviously striving to see the fight. Lewinsky smiled and withdrew a combat knife from its sheath. Baring his teeth, he clamped a hand over the alien's mouth and plunged the blade into its throat.

The unsuspecting Brute gagged and fell limp. Lewinsky carefully dropped it and motioned for the others to follow.

Things were about to get interesting.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Scatter!" Jackson ordered, raising his grenade launcher.

Tanner and Ling leaped backwards as the grenade rebounded off the bloodstained floor into the face of a surprised Brute. The projectile exploded, sending the alien back a few yards. More of his brothers were coming, however, and they were getting angrier.

A massive Chieftain detached from the main group, swinging a deadly gravity hammer. Rearback, from his strategic position under a desk, watched as the Brute swung the weapon at Tanner.

The Texan ducked the blow, out of skill of sheer luck Rearback didn't know, he was just glad that he did. Tanner emptied his clip into the charging Brute, but its shields held. The Brute chuckled darkly and slammed the butt of the hammer's handle against the SEALs armored chest.

Tanner cried in pain and fell back, choking blood. Ling, who had run out of ammo, took out his pistol and shot the Chieftain five times on the back, depleting his shields. The Brute turned and roared in challenge at the Asian man.

Tanner withdrew two plasma grenades from a dead Jiralhanae's belt and threw it at the hammer-wielding Brute. The grenades stuck, and all the Chieftain could do before the plasma incinerated him was let out a surprised squeak.

By then, however, more of the other aliens had entered the room. Ling cried out in pain as Spiker rounds hit him in the gut. Leone pulled the clip off two fragmentation grenades with his teeth and threw it in the oncoming horde. Three were torn apart, but more kept coming.

Rearback stood, firing his assault rifle into the pack. _Why not? I'm going to die anyway._

Sounds of additional gunfire came suddenly, and the attackers turned to see twenty-eight Marines charging their rear. Eleven Brutes were slaughtered under the reinforcements' barrage.

When the slaughter was over, a tall Marine with a bushy brown mustache approached Jackson with a grin.

"Major Jackson, good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Lewinsky. You got Bradley with you?" the SEAL asked, taking off his shades.

Lewinsky grimaced, and he took off his helmet.

"He died just after you left, sir. The embassy was doomed from the start." he explained.

Jackson frowned, but he nodded in understanding.

"At least you got some men out alive, corporal. A good deal, by the looks of it."

As the soldiers conversed with each other and tended to the injured, Rearback awkwardly left the group and walked to the back of the room. As he sighed and replayed the day's events in his head, he noticed the glowing cylinder sitting forgotten on top of a chair.

The private took it into his hands and noticed an inscription on the bottom of the object. It read: _**High Priority Asset [2] DRN 0000-1 (Durendal)**_

Rearback furrowed his eyebrow at the reading. Sighing, he set the Asset down on the tabletop and closed his eyes.

He soon fell asleep.

**AN: Eh, not my best. I enjoyed writing it, but I felt I could do better. I didn't want to proofread it, so forgive me if there are any mistakes. If you have any questions, please tell me. I will answer them to the best of my abilities. As always, please R&R! It would be **_**much **_**appreciated! **


	4. Stress Point

**AN: Here it is! Sorry for the long wait, by the way. That's the guaranteed time for now.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Halo or Star Wars. Those right belong to Bungie (343 Industries) and LucasArts. Any character(s) or object(s) not included in each company's respective saga is mine. All the rest are theirs.**_

**1200 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, UNSC **_**Hot Gates**_

"All in all, we're supposed to pilot a group of Cutlass-class interceptors through a smorgasbord of enemy fighters into the hangar of a hostile flagship captained by one of the most notorious leaders of the CIS and rescue the Supreme Chancellor from the clutches of said leader and Count Dooku himself?" Master Chief Petty Officer Paul-089 managed to say in one breath.

Captain Donald Hughes, an elderly man in a gray captain's uniform, scratched the full beard on his chin and nodded.

"Pretty much," Hughes replied, gritty voice issuing from his throat like sandpaper. "You missed the part about trying to kill Grevious and Dooku, though."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Although Paul's face was hidden from view behind his golden faceplate, one could tell he was excited from the urgency in his voice. "Aren't you excited, Vince?"

His fellow Spartan stood by the brass railing along the bridge, staring off into space. He didn't say a word or give any sign of notice to his friend. Paul felt a surge of pity for his friend and long-time brother-in-arms. Ever since the Station 13 incident, the lieutenant couldn't get over the fact that he "failed" the mission. Paul looked over to his other partner, Xavier. The short, green-armored SPARTAN-IV made a cutting motion with his hand.

_Let him be_. Paul gave an almost imperceptible nod and stepped back from the stoic Vince.

Hughes detached himself from the company of the Spartans and approached one of his seated officers.

"How're we running, Desmond?"

"Smoothly, sir. We've rebuffed numerous hostiles from within the firing zone. Our fighters halted two boarding attempts. I'd say we're good to go, skipper."

"Casualties?" the captain asked, eyes boring into the control screen.

"Minimal on our side, sir. We lost three destroyers and one Supercarrier. Four of our frigates are disabled and drifting."

"The Republic our doing well, I presume?"

"I wouldn't say that, exactly. There's some very heated conflict going on in the middle. Our ships are too big to really do anything but float awkwardly and cause friendly fire."

"Hmm," Hughes grunted, stroking his beard. "Everything seems fine. Has Rawlins given the okay, yet?"

"Not yet, sir. I don't think he's acquired the Asset yet-Oh, wait." A green icon flashed on the screen. "We're a go, captain."

"Excellent. Spartans, gear up and go to the hangar for additional briefing. I'll be there shortly." Hughes saluted and turned back to the sitting Desmond.

Vince pulled away from the railing and strode out of the bridge politely, although not saying a word to his two partners. Paul and Xavier followed.

There was an awkward silence between the three as they walked down the corridor, dodging streams of naval personnel. Silences usually were never so foreign in a SPARTAN unit, but the group had been so accustomed to Vince giving words of encouragement or information.

_When Harold and Courtney get back, they'll be in for a surprise_, Xavier thought dryly.

They reached the armory, where hundreds of advanced weapons were stacked neatly on hanging racks. The _Hot Gates_ was a ship loaded with SPARTAN-IV gear, since it had been designed uniquely for ferrying the elite soldiers across the stars. Engineers were collaborating on making a whole ship class for the Spartans, but times were a bit too busy to put it to action.

Paul carefully removed a M50 Close-Assault Carbine from a rack, admiring its polished sheen. They had been produced late in the Recuperation Era, when most of the vital colonies had been terraformed. Much more advanced than their earlier cousin, the MA5K Carbine, the rifle had a more devastating hydrostatic shock, or stopping power, on a target. The weapons development team at ONI had implanted several miniature detonators into the bullets themselves, so when the projectile buried itself in the target the bullet promptly exploded after two seconds. The M50 first saw use against CIS forces in the Felucia campaign where the guns proved devastating against the droids, tearing them apart from the inside and sending them into disarray.

The gun was shaped more or less like its past counterpart, but with a longer barrel and electronic targeting reticule. Paul took a Magnum from another rack and inserted eight grenades, four of each kind. Xavier bent low and opened a drawer, taking a Sniper Rifle System 99D-S2 Anti-Matériel from the compartment. The long-range weapon hadn't changed mostly in the past decades, mainly because of its effectiveness in capable hands. In a Spartans hands, it was much deadlier. He aimed down the gun, twisting the dial to adjust the scope. Satisfied, he slung the weapon over his shoulder and took a quick glance at Vince.

The silent Spartan was walking along the racks, taking grenades as he went. After sticking a medpack into his bag, he stopped at the far end of the room. Vince took the long metal cylinder from the panel. He ignited the lightsaber, emitting a deadly shaft of blue energy from the top. Swinging it appreciatively, he deactivated it and stuck it into a holster. Turning, he extracted a Kirkovsky-Model MA5D Assault Rifle from another shelf. Like its predecessors, the MA5D was an air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine fed weapon that would serve the UNSC faithfully. It looked much like the MA5C, but stockier and with an infrared targeting reticule that could electronically match on the HUD. The guns were outfitted with .50 armor-piercing rounds, rounds strong enough to pierce droid skin.

Vince added a fresh cartridge into the rifle, resisting an urge to sigh. Sensing a tingle at the back of his neck, he turned to see Xavier and Paul looking at him.

"What?" he asked, voice low.

"It's not your fault, Vince," Paul began.

Vince shook his head and walked past them, brushing against their shoulders.

"We've got a job to do." he responded, cutting him off. Seeing that it was hopeless, the other two followed.

Making their way through the twisting corridors, they made it to the hangar, where three distinct Cutlass-interceptors were docked in front of them. Klaxons were blaring, and dozens of personnel were rushing about. Captain Hughes nodded as they entered the hectic hangar. The three SPARTAN-IVs walked up to the skipper and saluted. Hughes saluted and turned to a tactical screen to his right. The schematics of the _Invisible Hand_ were on the screen.

"Good. You're here. Now, the objective is the _Invisible Hand_, General Grevious' personal flagship. As far as we know, the Chancellor is being held at the upper observation deck," he pointed to a conning tower jutting from the rear of the Providence-class cruiser/destroyer. "To megalomaniacs like Grevious and Dooku, a lofty place like that would be a great room to house one of this galaxy's most important men. Highly vulnerable to destruction, but dramatic."

"So we kill the Count and Grevious and rescue the Chancellor." Vince remarked matter-of-factly.

"It's not as simple as it sounds. First, you'll have to get to the damned ship in the first place. There are thousands of fighters protecting the flagship. It won't be a fly in clear skies, if you ask me. Then, you'll have to enter the hangar and navigate your way through hundreds of corridors to find the tower. Plus, there's bound to be tens of thousands of droids in the ship."

"It's not like we haven't done this before, captain." Paul pointed out.

"Correct. However, Grevious and Dooku will be under the same roof this time. The general was good enough to stand-off against the Arbiter himself, and from what I've heard, Dooku could easily kick _two_ Spartan's asses."

Vince stiffened, and his blood levels rose and registered on his team's HUDs. Xavier dipped a finger almost imperceptibly, but enough to catch Vince's eye.

_Cool it_.

Vince took a breath and calmed down, ignoring the reference. Hughes saw this and flushed slightly.

"My apologies, Spartan. I got a little carried away there."

"Forgiven, sir. Although it's not my place to say so."

"Don't be ridiculous, son." Hughes huffed. "Anyways, all this sounds like shitload of trouble if you ask me. Luckily, you won't be going without any help."

Hughes withdrew a data chip from his breast pocket. Vince recognized it; it was just like the one on the _Conquistador_, when Ayala gave him Manuel. He handed it to Vince.

"His name is Durandal. He is High Priority Asset 2, the object that so many men gave their lives for groundside. A few minutes ago, Rawlins risked a ship-to-ship data transfer to give Durandal to me. He is highly valuable to us, and we sincerely hope that you do not mess up."

"Durandal, sir," Vince began. "He's an AI, isn't he?"

"The best there is. He is the first of the fourth-generation AIs, the new breed of artificial intelligences ONI is cooking up. The scientists had taken DNA samples of the greatest minds in the UNSC and merged them to create a virtual AI super genius. Technically, the spooks said that Durandal should be able to complete this mission on his own, but since this is his first operation, we decided to put him with you guys."

Hughes sighed in finality, clapping his rough hands together.

"Are you ready?" he inquired, eyes questioning.

"We were ready a long time ago, sir." Xavier answered.

"Good. Now get going, you've got a Supreme Chancellor to save."

They saluted and jogged briskly towards the three waiting Cutlasses. Vince jumped onto the ramp and slammed his fist onto the close button. Steam poured from the fuel pipes as the incline rapidly shut. Vince fingered the chip, thinking the decision over. Finally, he jammed it behind his helmet.

There was a flash of light, and the world spun as vertigo overcame his senses. He gave a brief pause, but then recovered.

"_**Greetings, I am DRN 0000-1. You may call me Durandal.**__"_

Surprised at such formal introduction, Vince took a second before responding.

"Hello, Durandal. I am-"

"_**Second Lieutenant Vincent-123, born August 14, 2553 in Las Vegas Ultra, Nevada. Recipient of the Purple Heart, Medal of Honor, and the Colonial Cross. You were selected to be part of Valor Team on December 2, 2570.**_"

Vince sat shocked for a moment, but eventually regained his composure.

"Figures. Fourth-generation AI and all that." he snorted.

"_**It was quite elementary, really. All I did was access the files regarding your, I must say, **_**zealously**_**guarded history and upload them into my neural memory logs. The security software didn't know a thing.**__"_

"Great, that's great," Vince said, strapping into the seat. "If you haven't noticed we got a job to do right now, so if you'll pay attention and try to save my ass a few times, I'd appreciate that."

"_**Why in the world would I want to save your ass? I don't want to lay my hands on such a dirty thing. Who knows where it's been?**_" the AI answered in a tone uncharacteristic with newborn intelligences.

"Sarcastic little twit," the Spartan muttered as he flipped the top switches and got ready for takeoff.

"_Blue 2 is a go for launch._" Xavier's voice crackled into the COM.

"_Blue 3 is a go. Awaiting Blue 1."_ Paul stated from his Cutlass.

"Blue 1 is go for launch." Vince said, ejecting Durandal from the back of his helmet and into the data log on the control panel of the Cutlass.

"Clear hangar bay area, I repeat, clear hangar bay area." The speakers blared, sending waves of men and women out of the flight zone.

"Clear."

"Exit burn in three…two…one. _Burn!_" Vince yelled.

The Cutlasses engine roared to fiery life, and the hull groaned as stress gripped the ship. Vince leaned back at the initial acceleration, but straightened as they cleared the hangar and entered the black vastness of space.

**1210 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, Sewer Levels**

"I hate sewers," Renfield moaned, his lips stretched in a pout as he sloshed through the damp pipeline.

After the Pelican from the _Summer's Day_ picked up the Asset, they were ordered by Rawlins to go and assist the defenses at the Senate Building. Seeing that the streets were clogged by enemy forces, the only clear way was through the underground sewers.

"Suck it up, Marine. Quit pouting and be a man." grunted Lewinsky. The corporal was at the head of the group, while Jackson and his SEALs brought up the rear. In the middle of the thirty-odd group was the wounded Ling on a stretcher. Occasional groans issued from the SEAL's throat as they traversed the tunnels.

"How far until we reach the building, major?" Lewinsky asked, eyes peering through the dark before them.

"We've still got a mile to go. Until then, keep your men in line, corporal." Jackson said, giving a sidelong glance at the miserable Renfield.

"Geez, major," Hayes complained. "Give this greenhorn to the droids, for God's sake."

"No one is giving the droids anything but a ton of lead, boy. Now get moving." Jackson growled.

As they marched on, Renfield perked up, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

"I smell something," he said, voice frightened.

"Oh really, private?" Lewinsky replied, nearly chuckling. "You're smelling something in a _sewer_? Who would have known?"

The men laughed, giving Renfield condescending looks and grinning like fools. Renfield ignored the jibe, backing up down the tunnel. He pointed a shaking finger at the stygian darkness up ahead.

"I can h-hear them too," he whispered. He turned and sprinted back. "RUN!"

They all watched the private flee, stunned. Jackson recovered, slapping one of the men upside the head. "Get him before he hurts himself."

The private chased after Renfield, calling his name in an attempt to make him return. He disappeared around the corner. Hayes started laughing, clutching his belly in glee.

"What's gotten into Renfield, corporal?" he wheezed between laughs. "Think he got the old post-battle jitters?"

Lewinsky was silent, however, as he stared up ahead. Slowly, he began to back up.

"Lock and load, boys! We're in for trouble!" he yelled, flipping the safety off his battle rifle.

The sound of fluttering wings and excited chirps echoed throughout the tunnel. The Marines began backing up, nervously preparing their weapons.

Then a swarm of armed Yan'me and Geonosians burst from the blackness.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_Be advised, Blue 1, you've got two vulture droids on your six and approaching fast._" Xavier warned.

Vince switched to the aft cameras and spied a duo of the infamous CIS fighters among the mayhem of turbolasers and dogfights. He pulled ahead, seeming to fly straight towards the floating hull of a destroyed CIS frigate. The vulture droids closed in, firing their weapons at the fighter. The Cutlass' shields absorbed most of the lasers, and Vince went onwards.

"_**You'd think they wouldn't fall for the oldest trick in the book,**_" Durandal commented.

Vince pulled back the throttle at the last second, rising up. The two droids crashed into the hull at full speed, exploding in a ball of fire that quickly extinguished.

"_Bravo Zulu,_" Paul remarked.

"They're droids," Vince said to the AI. "They're not exactly top-notch pilots."

"_**Of course. One would assume that much. They're maneuvering standard only allows them to focus on one object at a time. At such high velocity, they weren't able to register that you were leading them to a trap**_."

"Oh, really?" Vince said dryly as he maneuvered around a Republic Venator.

Outside the window was a myriad of bright colors and shapes, something that Vince found quite distracting. Turbolasers flashed here and there, and only Vince's augmented reaction time enabled him to avoid them. He touched his COM as he spotted the burn blue-indigo hull of the _Invisible Hand_.

"_Objective in sight. Form up, Dagger Position._"

The two Cutlasses positioned themselves to the right and left flank of Vince. They zoomed forward towards the ship's port. Immediately, a cluster of vulture droids detached from the main hull and rushed to the approaching UNSC fighters.

"Fire targeting missiles," Vince stated, pressing the weapons control buttons. "Missiles away."

Four missiles disengaged from the Cutlass and streamed to the enemy fighters, leaving a trail of smoke exhaust. Three connected, eliminating the droids. One missed and hit the _Invisible Hand_ instead, making its deflector shields flicker a bit.

The vulture droids continued on, firing away. Suddenly, a mass of blue turbolasers flew in from the right, smashing against the vulture droids. A yellow-black Jedi starfighter cruised in, finishing the droids off. A familiar voice spoke into the COM.

"_Looked like you guys needed a hand,_" Anakin Skywalker teased.

"Much appreciated, general," Vince replied.

"_**Although not entirely necessary.**_" Durandal put in.

The SPARTAN-IV ignored him and fired his bullets at the hangar shield generators, joined by his team, Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"_My apologies, Spartans_," Kenobi breathed. "_Anakin is quite impulsive at times._"

"_**Looks like you need to keep the boy on a leash.**_" Durandal advised, pushing into the group COM.

"_Excuse me, who is that?_" Kenobi said, trying not to sputter.

"I'll tell you when we clear the hangar." Vince answered and cut the connection. He brought a fist down onto the panel.

"_**You can't hurt me you know.**_" Durandal said.

"I'll rip out the controls." he responded, speeding up.

"_**I've already connected to every naval database in the area. Besides, I can process and react to information **_**millions **_**of times faster than you.**_"

"Durandal…" Vince sighed, eyes locked onto the approaching hangar entrance.

"_**Collision imminent. Brace yourself**_."

Vince swung back as the Cutlass slammed into the hangar floor, sending a shower of sparks in its wake. As it slowed, he ejected Durandal from the control dock and got out of the seat. Dropping the ramp, he leaped out and lifted his MA5D.

A mass of B1 battle droids were walking towards them, mechanical voices droning commands. He aimed and fired four quick bursts, ripping holes into each target. They fired back, and Vince sidestepped to find cover. A harsh snap sounded in the air, and three droids fell, a hole pounded in each one's head.

"Keep it up, Xavier" Vince encouraged through a private link.

Paul appeared from between two docked CIS transports. He went up close to a droid and fired. The battle droid flew back as the modified bullets connected, and then promptly exploded mid-air. Two others were engulfed in the flames.

The two Jedi jumped from out of nowhere, landing in the middle of the droids. They spun and weaved, displaying deadly acrobatic moves that not even a Spartan could do easily. Soon, the enemy was finished. Paul kicked the remains of one of them.

"I'm surprised you didn't finish this war sooner," he remarked. "These droids are as dumb as shit."

"With an aim to match," Xavier added, appearing from on top of one of the side ledges.

Kenobi chuckled, deactivating his lightsaber and brushing some soot off his tunic.

"Trust me," he said. "There was much more to it than that."

"Come on, R2." Anakin said, leading a blue astromech droid to a door. Vince came up beside him and R2D2, holding up his data chip. "Locate the Chancellor."

Vince imported the chip in, and blue light filtered through the mechanical port as Durandal situated himself.

"_**Not what I expected,**_" he mused. _**"A bit different from the UNSC and CAS database, but its nothing I can't handle."**_

__R2D2 whirred and bounced on his two sliders, still connected to the wall.

"_**What?**_" Durandal asked, presumably to the droid. "_**There's no need to be so rude. You can't help it that I'm one hundred and fifty times faster than you."**_

__R2 beeped again.

_**"Alright, that was uncalled for you little-"**_

__"STOP!" Vince yelled, his nerves beginning to get the better of him. "Just quit it. Find the Chancellor, please."

"_**Fine…But he has to stop calling me names."**_

__"He's quite immature for a fourth-generation AI," Paul said in a private link to Vince and Xavier.

_**"I can hear you, you know. I've linked up to all COMs within the radius of four thousand miles.**_"

"Durandal…" Vince hissed.

"_**Alright, I've got it. Actually, I locked onto his signature the moment I attached to the **__Invisible Hand's __**battle net-"**_

__"For Christ's sake-" Xavier complained.

"_**He's in the upper observatory deck.**_"

"Okay, we know that. How is he?" Vince asked, resisting the urge to pull out his pistol and shoot the panel.

"_**Looks good to me. Here, I'll feed the security camera video to you HUDs.**_"

A gray video popped up in front of Vince. The Chancellor was shackled to a metal chair, almost like a throne. The paned window was directly in front of him, and the scene of battle raged in space. There seemed to be no enemies in the room.

"Okay, everyone through the door." Kenobi ordered.

"R2, stay here." Anakin said, pointing to the floor in emphasis. The astromech whirred in an almost sad tone and stayed.

Dutifully, they all piled into the small elevator. It was a funny sight: Three Spartans and two dwarfed Jedi standing in a cramped elevator compartment. Anakin clasped his hands behind him and inched away from the Vince's gigantic bulk. The Spartan looked down at the Jedi, who was already a foot shorter than him. Anakin looked away, eyes wide.

The door dinged and they exited the elevator with relief.

"Durandal, give me a quick and direct route to the conning tower."

A blue arrow icon flashed to the right: a side hall with more elevators.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

After three elevator rides and a group of Super Battle Droids, Vince cautiously set foot into the upper observatory deck.

He was on a protrusion edged with steel railing and two flights of adjacent stairs. Below them, two cylindrical conduits stood on either side of lavender control table. Blue stripes surrounded the purple-colored desk. The chair that imprisoned Palpatine turned automatically, revealing the black robed Chancellor himself. His pale visage seemed to be even more paler, and Vince saw a small smile tug at his thin lips when he saw the Spartan.

As the group gingerly approached the man, Vince could see him stiffen. Kenobi bowed to Palpatine.

"Chancellor," he greeted with respect.

"Are you all right?" Anakin asked, genuinely worried.

"Count Dooku," Palpatine warned, looking behind them.

Vince spun to see Dooku in his trademark red-black suit enter from the door they had just come through, flanked by two Super Battle Droids. Dooku flashed him a quick smile. Vince felt his blood boil, something unfamiliar to the battle-hardened warrior. Paul clenched his shoulder.

"Calm down," he coaxed through private COM. "We'll get our chance."

"This time, we will do it together." Kenobi whispered to Anakin, who's eyes were locked onto the Count.

"I was just about to say the same thing," his apprentice murmured back. He stood next to his master and faced Dooku.

The Count flipped from the ledge to the ground acrobatically, a feat no man his age should have been able to do without the Force.

"Get help," Chancellor said despairingly. "You're no match for him. He's a Sith Lord."

Paul glanced at Palpatine, his arm twitching.

"Chancellor Palpatine," Kenobi said, turning to the shackled man. "Sith Lords are our specialty."

The Jedi Master removed his cloak, followed by Skywalker. The Spartans flipped the safeties off their weapons.

"Your swords please," Dooku said, walking straight up to them. Vince noticed he was talking directly to the Jedi, ignoring the three supersoldiers. He knew there was some bad blood between the three, but it was strange. "We don't want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor."

"You won't get away this time, _Dooku_." Kenobi replied, almost spitting out the last word. He ignited his lightsaber, and Anakin followed suit. Dooku lifted his saber arm and ignited.

"Fire!" Vince roared, emptying his clip towards the Sith Lord.

Dooku moved back, melting the bullets at supersonic speed. Kenobi and Skywalker moved in, striking with their blades. The Count twirled and deflected each strike, looking like a competitive fencer.

Vince felt his shields flare, and he noticed the two Super Battle Droids firing at them. He looked at Paul and Xavier and motioned to the droids. They nodded and ran. Vince turned his attention back to the battle.

The three Force-users stopped, crouching low. Dooku smiled a maniacal grin.

"I've been looking forward to this." he said.

"My powers have doubled since the last time we met, Count." Anakin responded, eyes burning with hate.

"Good," Dooku said. "Twice the pride, double the fall."

Obi-Wan struck first, an overhead blow that Dooku easily deflected. Anakin lunged, and the dance resumed. Vince lifted his gun, struggling to find an opening. Whenever he fired, however, the Sith Lord always blocked each shot. Vince looked up to the ledge and saw his partners finishing the droids off.

"Seek an opening for the Count," he ordered.

They nodded and jumped off the railing.

**1219 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, Sewer Level**

"Shoot the buggers down!" Lewinsky roared above the gunfire.

The horde of insectoids were swarming above the trapped UNSC ground force, firing their plasma pistols and sonic blasters.

"How the hell did Yan'me get here?" Tanner yelled, shooting down five of the winged menaces. "And with Geonosians for Pete's sake."

"Who knows?" Jackson said, wiping blood off his lip. "Just keep on firing."

Lewinsky watched as a Geonosian and a Drone lift a screaming Marine, Hanson, into the air and literally rip him apart. As the blood and bones rained to the murky water, the corporal felt vomit burn at his throat.

"We're getting killed, corporal!" Hayes cried, steam rising from a plasma wound on his leg. "There's too many!"

"Man up!" Lewinsky replied.

The surviving Marines, twenty-three in all, formed a loose circle in the center of the tunnel. As more and more alien bodies fell, however, more humans fell. Leone primed a plasma grenade and threw it. It stuck to a Geonosian who scrabbled to remove it.

The grenade detonated, eliminating three Yan'me in the process. The Marines renewed their efforts until all the enemies were gone. Lewinsky sighed and kneeled, ignoring the blood flowing around his legs. He looked up, sweat glistening his forehead.

"Head count, everyone!" he yelled. "Form up!"

As they gathered around him, he began to count. He cursed aloud, stamping his foot. They were down to eighteen soldiers. There were bound to be more Drones up ahead, and they still had half a mile to go. Not to mention defending the Senate Building.

"Let's move, everyone," Jackson ordered. "Collect dog tags on the way. No time to dawdle."

Lewinsky walked over to Hanson's remains and plucked the silver chain from what remained of his neck.

"Hey, where's Renfield and Wallowitz?" Hayes asked while McGrath, the team medic, attended to his leg.

Lewinsky felt fear clutch his heart and he turned to look behind them. Where the greenhorn had fled, chased by PFC Wallowitz.

"Williams, Gil, cover me! I'm going to find-"

He was interrupted with the telltale sounds of snarling and yowls: Brutes. Jackson cursed and pulled two Marines by the collar.

"Go, go, go!" he bellowed.

Lewinsky gave one last look behind him then turned to follow the others.

**1220 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, CIS **_**Invisible Hand**_

Vince pumped his shotgun and fired his last shell, watching in disappointment as the Count deflected the bullets once more.

"Paul!" the lieutenant called, dropping his shotgun and reloading his sidearm. "Help General Kenobi!"

His teammate nodded and ran to relieve the unconscious Jedi Master of the slab of metal covering his lower body. Meanwhile, Xavier and Anakin were desperately trying to subdue Dooku, but the Sith Lord was proving to be a hard foe. It seemed his prowess tripled since the last time they met. Vince ground his teeth and rushed to help his two allies.

Dooku Force-Pushed Xavier back a few yards. The Spartan felt air escape his lungs as he hit the bulkhead. Locking blades with Skywalker, he smiled ferociously. Anakin's curly brown locks were matted with sweat, and his face was contorted in pain and fury.

"I sense great fear in you, Skywalker," he drawled, eyes predatory and dark. "You have hate. You have anger, but you don't use them."

"Hey, Count."

Dooku whirled, watching Vince lift his pistol and fire thrice. He turned to deflect the shots, but even as he incinerated the projectiles, he realized his mistake. Snarling, he attempted to slice at Anakin with his lightsaber.

He was too slow.

Anakin slashed his blue lightsaber in a vicious arc, cutting both of Dooku's wrinkled hands from his body. Dooku's imperious eyes widened in shock and anger as he witnessed the sight. He kneeled, and Anakin caught the Sith's lightsaber and crossed both weapons across his enemy's neck.

Vince paused in momentary astonishment. It was over. A light laugh echoed throughout the chamber, and Vince looked to see Palpatine smiling at Anakin.

"Good, Anakin, good," the Chancellor commended, leaning forward in his chair. "Kill him. Kill him now."

He said the last words with a look of disgust at Dooku. The defeated Count swiveled his head, staring at the man in disbelief.

"I shouldn't," Anakin muttered, caught in a moment of indecision.

Vince felt Paul and Xavier coming up beside him. Kenobi's labored breathing was the only sound in the room as he moved fitfully on Paul's shoulder.

"Do it." Palpatine commanded, face stretched tight with concentration. His voice turned guttural, and Vince felt an involuntary chill run down his back. Not unlike the time he had first met the Chancellor at the Senate Building.

"Hold on there, Skywalker," Vince began, lifting up an arm towards the stiff Jedi.

"REEESE!" Dooku howled desperately.

An orange flash burst into the room, knocking Anakin away from the wounded Sith. He hit the window hard, shaking its delicate surface. Vince froze, watching in horror as an all too familiar person helped the Count to his feet.

"Reese?" Xavier breathed.

Their former friend looked at them in silence, producing a T-21 light repeating blaster from a sling at his back. Paul stepped back.

"Reese, don't do it-" he warned.

The SPARTAN-IV fired. There was no time for dramatic reunions as the three Spartans avoided the other's plasma bolts. Reese moved towards the door, firing and dragging Dooku on the way. Vince fired five times at his old partner's legs. Shields coalesced around Reese, and the Spartan didn't seem to notice as he forced Vince back into cover.

"What happened to him?" Paul called from behind a conduit.

"I think he's brainwashed," Vince answered.

Reese reached the elevator door and punched in the controls. The door slid open, and he and the Count entered the compartment. Dooku curled a lip, staring with glee at Vince.

"See you soon, lieutenant," he said, blood running down a corner of his lip.

The door closed, and there was a _whumff_ as the elevator zoomed downwards. Vince bit back a curse and hit the wall in frustration. The shock had frozen him. He didn't work as efficiently as he was trained to do. He shook his head. He wouldn't let this momentary failure hinder him from completing the mission. He turned to his team. Judging by their rigid attention, he concluded that they came to the same decision.

"Paul, Xavier," he ordered, pushing down his feelings. "Take care of the two generals and release the Chancellor."

The Spartans nodded and went to do their jobs, pushing away the thought of Reese and Dooku.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Prepare for attack!" Grevious hacked, turning away from the scene of battle outside the bridge window.

"All batteries fire!" A Neimoidian tech officer ordered, leaning back as two droids exploded from enemy lasers. "FIRE!"

Belowdecks, droids operated the turbolaser batteries, firing the massive turrets across space and onto Republic Star Destroyers. Spots of explosions bloomed across the Venator's hull as they met their mark.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Elevator's not working," Vince informed the dreary Chancellor, Anakin slung over his shoulder.

Palpatine grimaced, and Vince could sense the tension leaking off his team's bodies as the ship creaked once more.

"Durandal! Activate elevator 3224." Vince said into his COM.

"_**Done.**_"

The elevator opened immediately, and the group crowded in just as the Venator fired a heavy blast straight into the _Invisible Hand's_ decks. The ship lurched, and the Spartans found themselves gripping onto a handle as the cruiser tipped dangerously forward.

"Hang on!" Vince cried as the ship went into a completely vertical fall.

"_**Having fun, boys?**_" Durandal hummed lightly.

"SHUT UP!" Vince yelled, letting his nerves get the better of him.

Suddenly, the ship leveled out, pushing Vince and the others back to normal.

"Why didn't you do that earlier?" Xavier asked Durandal.

"_**I didn't do anything. The bridge officers of this destroyer/cruiser did.**_" he answered plainly.

"Then why didn't you do that in the first place!" Palpatine burst out, wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve.

"_**Why would I have done that? The looks on your faces were priceless."**_

Palpatine spat on the floor.

"Your government's AIs are quite troublesome, lieutenant." The Chancellor told Vince. "Your leaders should highly consider getting rid of them for good."

"_**Is it because too many of us have been snooping around your Senate Building?**_" Durandal said. "_**If that's the case, then you'll have nothing to worry about. Well, except for a few **_**minor**_** details like blackmail, political coup d'état, a secret night at a night-club-**_"

"Look, the elevator's stopping," Palpatine weakly pointed out.

The compartment slid to a halt, and the door opened. Palpatine hurried out of the elevator, almost tripping on the hem of his dress robe.

"Come, Spartans," he urged.

Vince walked out, followed by his two friends.

"What was that about?" Vince hissed into his COM, mostly for show. "You have no reason to say such things to the Chancellor."

He gave a sidelong glance at the man.

"_**Oh, I am sorry. I am such a bad AI."**_ Vince could almost picture the intelligence rolling his eyes.

"Keep quiet until later," Vince ordered as he followed the Chancellor down the corridor. "I need to talk about that later."

He had an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it down.

Unexpectedly, a cylinder of rays erupted from the ceiling down around the group. At that time, both Jedi awoke and tried to extricate themselves from the Spartan's grips.

"Don't move," Vince said quietly, keeping a tight hold on the confused Anakin. "Ray shields."

A side door opened and R2 came sliding into the room, howling. The droid hit the adjacent wall somewhat comically, stumbling on his two sliders.

"_**Nice one,**_" Durandal snorted.

R2 whistled a response.

"_**Okay, you got me. But just this once-**_"

Two Droidekas emerged from the door, rearranging and aiming their guns at the group. Dozens of Super Battle droids appeared from behind them and in front of them, all facing the group threateningly.

"This is why I should never let you people make the decisions." Kenobi grumbled.

Suddenly, the ray shields flickered off.

Everyone was stunned for a moment, then Vince lunged but froze when the shields came back on again.

"_**I can keep this up all day long,**_" Durandal said happily as the ray shields turned on and off repeatedly.

"Just shut it off!" Vince shouted, tired of the AIs antics with the frustrated bridge officers.

"_**Gotcha, Big Blue,**_" Durandal answered, turning off the shields for good.

"Great," Anakin whispered. "We turn off the ray shields just to get incinerated by a hundred droids."

"_**Relax, Brownilocks,**_" Durandal said as the droids grabbed the group and started to pull them away. "_**They're not going to kill you. Megalomaniacs like Grevious want to have the joy of relaying all his plans to you face-to-face. Try to be more like your master, Kenny, and chillax."**_

__"Quit it. You're not funny." Vince growled. "What's with the names, anyway?"

"_**Oh, I just wanted to give a personal designation for each one of you. My favorite is Turncoat Tommy. Isn't that right, Tommy?"**_

__Someone behind Vince went into a fit of coughing, but he couldn't turn his head to see.

Finally, they reached the bridge.

General Grevious was at the front of the green-lit room, surrounded by his tech officers working on the control panels. He turned to the approaching prisoners, flanked by two Magnaguards.

"Ah, yes. Two Jedi, three SPARTAN-IVs, and the Supreme Chancellor himself. This is quite a treat." the mechanical android rasped, yellow slit pupils staring at the group with delight. "We've been waiting for you."

The prisoners were filed in a row, each one facing Grevious.

"Your lightsabers will make a fine addition to my collection," he said, clutching the Jedi's hilts in one metal claw.

"Not this time, general," Kenobi said, smiling. "This time, you won't escape."

"R2!" called Anakin.

The astromech droid beeped and released his cutting tools, slicing the bonds that held Kenobi. He ignited his lightsaber and freed Anakin, who used the Force to retrieve his lightsaber from Grevious' cloak.

"Crush them. Make them suffer!" Grevious ordered, moving back as his Magnaguards approached the two Jedi.

Vince nodded, and the Spartans snapped their cuffs and blocked the Magnaguards. Paul dodged one of their swipes and gripped their staff handle. Twisting it free, he jammed it into the droid's body forcefully and tore off its head with a gloved hand. As it twitched, he ripped the electro-staff free and sliced the Magnaguard apart like butter.

Xavier and Vince tackled the remaining droid, denting its breastplate and forcing it to the ground. As it lay on the floor. They simultaneously stamped their right feet onto the Magnaguard's chest, tearing right through the armor. The guard shook spasmodically and then died, the light leaving its bulbous vision sensors.

Anakin and Obi-Wan dropped their lightsabers from their ready positions, staring unbelievingly at the Spartans.

The three SPARTAN-IVs circled the trapped Grevious like sharks, flexing their hands in preparation. Grevious looked at them and to his single electro-staff in his left hand.

"My apologies, but I really must leave. Dooku would be disappointed if I die." he coughed.

He gripped the electro-staff and struck the window.

Air immediately rushed through the giant hole in the window, pulling everyone but the Spartans towards it. The two Jedi held onto Palpatine and grabbed hold of the railing, floating horizontally as the vacuum tore up the bridge. The remaining officers were pulled into the void.

"Durandal!" Vince cried.

"_**Activating emergency measures and venting oxygen.**_"

Black slabs slid to cover the open windows. Gravity turned back to normal, and the Jedi and Palpatine dropped to the floor.

"_**Interior atmosphere stabilizing. You're fine, now.**_"

"Shut the door." he ordered.

The exit slammed shut.

"Does anyone know how to drive this thing?" Vince asked, moving to a nearby control panel.

"Why did you shut the door?" Palpatine interrupted nervously. "We could've escaped!"

"_**When Grevious escaped, he ejected all remaining pods including his. This is our only way out. You guys, at least.**_"

"I can," Anakin spoke up, answering Vince's question. "Well, I can land what's rest of it."

"Why do you say that?" Kenobi replied.

"Well, under the circumstances the ability to pilot this thing is irrelevant. Strap yourselves in."

"Open all hatches, extend all flaps and drive fins." he ordered.

They could feel the ship rumble as Durandal adjusted the ship to follow Skywalker's commands. Something happened to cause the cruiser to give a massive lurch.

"_**We lost something.**_" Durandal said guiltily. "_**I can fly this thing by myself, you know.**_"

"Let the Jedi do his thing, Durandal." Paul advised.

"There's no need to worry. We're still flying half a ship." Kenobi pointed out positively.

"Oh yeah," Xavier grimaced. "No need at all."

Red-orange light shone from outside the windows as Coruscant's atmosphere burned against the falling ship. Palpatine gripped both seats, staring wide-eyed at the flames. The light didn't affect Vince's vision, so he could clearly see the fast approaching surface through the burn.

"Now we're really picking up speed," Anakin said, grinning dangerously.

"Eight plus sixty," Kenobi calculated. "We're in atmosphere."

"Grab that." Anakin pointed to a throttle beside Kenobi's command chair. "Keep us level."

Blue sky, cumulus clouds, and the city surface could be seen through the burning windows. As the ship tore through the clouds like bullet holes, the Spartans could feel the familiar lurch in their stomachs as the ship descended.

"Steady," Obi-Wan encouraged.

R2 began a cacophony of whistles and beeps, distracting the Jedi from the job.

"Easy, R2!" Anakin yelled, sweat pouring down his face and staining his tunic collar.

"Five thousand," Kenobi said of the elevation. "Five ships on the left and the right."

"_We'll take you in,_" said a voice through the SHIPCOM. It was one of the Republic pilots.

"Starboard and port cameras," Vince told Durandal. Through the static, Vince could see the Republic fighters releasing gallons of water through their pipes, extinguishing the exterior flames.

"Landing strip straight ahead," Kenobi pointed to a straight metal landing zone.

"We're coming in too hot!" Anakin gritted through tightly clenched teeth.

The ship landed with a crash, sliding across the landing strip. The sole occupants of the _Invisible Hand_ were pushed forward, struggling to hold onto something as the huge cruiser tore across the strip. They neared a lone air control tower, and Vince braced for the impact. The _Hand_ bulldozed the tower, sending its top half to the ground.

As the ship started to slow, Vince's nerves began to subside. He breathed a sigh of relief as the _Invisible Hand _ended its journey through space and land.

Anakin inhaled and exhaled shakily, looking to his master. Kenobi leaned back and pushed back his sweaty brown hair.

"Another happy landing," he said with a grin.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Lewinsky opened the sewer hatch carefully, eyes peering over the grimy rim.

"Is it safe, corporal?" Hayes asked loudly.

"Shut it, Marine!" Jackson snarled, slamming his rifle butt on the private's shoulder.

Lewinsky surveyed the scene around him. Through his line of vision, steaming corpses of droids and tanks were lying on the street under the shadow of the domed Senate Building. He could see the rear of the invading droid army besieging the edifice. Up ahead, the familiar white of the GAR clones desperately tried to push back the invaders.

"Alright, its clear!"

The men slowly filed out of the tunnel, nursing their aching muscles. Jackson watched the spectacle with grim clarity.

"Here's what we're going to do-"

Out of nowhere, a colossal Slipspace portal materialized above the city, ringed with azure energy. A fleet of CAS ships appeared, numbering in what seemed to thousands. A big portion of the fleet detached from the main group and flew into orbit, firing their plasma missiles at nearby CIS cruisers. The Marines and SEALs watched as the tide of the battle changed as Phantoms bombed the droid army and dropped off troops.

Lewinsky and the other whooped in newfound joy. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to hug the person. He collided with a wall of armor and pure muscle. He grunted and looked up, puzzled.

"Happy, human?" The Arbiter asked, clucking his mandibles in amusement.

He was dressed in ceremonial armor and a lavish cape. Flanking him were a dozen Elite Royal Guards, clutching bright energy swords and daggers. Wraith tanks and Unggoy-ridden Ghosts approached the battle, firing their weapons.

"Well?" Thel asked the battle-weary UNSC soldier.

Lewinsky sighed and fainted.

**Escape pod…**

"You were late, fool." Dooku seethed, staring maliciously at the SPARTAN-IV as he attended to the Sith's injuries. Mainly his stubs that used to be hands. "If you hadn't come earlier Skywalker wouldn't have done this."

They were inside the escape pod. They had crash-landed in an alley-way on Coruscant, but everyone was too worried about the battle going on that no one noticed them land. Dooku spat on Reese's visor.

"You will learn next time," the Count said.

He hissed as Reese rubbed some medical cream over his horrible wounds. Reese was as silent and stoic as ever as he finished the treatment. Dooku rose unsteadily, once-immaculate form dirty and stained with dirt and soot. He walked out of the open pod, the tip of his arm instinctively touching the lightsaber at his hip.

"Come, Reese. Our transport shall arrive shortly-"

There was a whine of a plasma shot, and Dooku felt pain bloom on his back. He cursed and fell to the grounds, lying amongst the rubble and debris from a torn office building. Breathing hard, he turned on his back.

Reese slung his blaster rifle back onto his shoulder. He walked over to the fallen Sith calmly. Dooku felt a flutter of fear. He lifted is arms to electrify the traitor, but to no avail. His hands were gone. Staring hard at the approaching Spartan, he tried to Force-Push him.

Nothing.

He roared, ordering Reese to stand down and quit this madness.

Nothing.

Reese reached the desperate Sith Lord and crouched beside him. Count Dooku was frozen in fear, and he stared at the opaque faceplate that mirrored his own face. Reese grabbed Dooku's curved lightsaber and ignited it.

"No more," he whispered.

He ran the former Jedi Master through. Dooku cried in pain, darkness edging his vision like blotted ink. His memories flashed in his mind faster than light, and he remembered the day he renounced the Jedi Way and turned to the Sith.

"Why?" he croaked as death seeped into his soul.

"Because," Reese said, withdrawing the lightsaber from Dooku's limp body and inserting it into his own waist belt. He recalled the words that Dooku said whenever Reese had asked the same question during the grueling surgical procedures. "It's all part of the plan."

He walked away.

Dooku sighed once, feeling a moment of peaceful euphoria enter his body. Then he died.

Reese felt Dooku's life force leave the living world, and he touched his COM.

"Dooku is dead." he said. There was a pause as whoever answered back. "Yes, master. I will be there shortly. Our time is near."

He cut the connection.

Beneath his golden faceplate, the treasured image of the UNSC and beyond, he smiled.

**AN: Suspenseful, isn't it? The whole Revenge of the Sith part should come to a close in the next few chapters. Also, if any of you noticed, I did change Durandal's name. Anyways, like always, please R&R! Thank you!** __ __


	5. Turning Point

**AN: Sorry for the long wait (I know, that was an understatement. How long has it been, a month?). I had a recent reviewer comment about how Cortana was a fifth-generation AI. Yeah, I forgot to brush up on my Halo facts :\. Anyway, pretend Siegfried and Manuel are fifth-generation, and Durandal is sixth. I'll edit it later. For the story, I kind of rushed it, because I wanted it to get to the good part. This is mostly Revenge of the Sith, when all hell breaks loose on Coruscant. Anyways, enjoy. **

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Halo or Star Wars. Those rights belong to Bungie (343 Industries) and LucasArts. Any character(s) or object(s) not included in each company's respective saga is mine. All the rest are theirs.**_

**1600 hours, June 1, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant, UNSC **_**Megiddo**_

_\\ UNSC OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE_

_\\ CLASSIFIED (CLASS-0) TRANSMISSION [.PRTCL-1A]_

_ SENT: [STEPHENSON. M. 300129 (C2)]_

_ RECEIVED: [ONI. DIRECTOR. NAGEL. E. FLEETCOM-HQ]_

_\ TRANSCRIPT AS FOLLOWS (W/ADDITIONAL MEMBERS):_

_ Quickly, Colonel. I have many things to attend to at this hour._

_ Right away, Admiral. Casualties are higher groundside than expected, sir. The Embassy was almost immediately attacked, and we lost many men there, including the building itself. Luckily, the Asset was secured and sent to Rawlins before CIS forces could get their hands on it._

_ I know this, Stephenson._

_ Of course, sir. My apologies. The Jedi Temple was well guarded, and minimal damage was made to the structure itself and its occupants. I was there personally, and we lost a few lives._

_[Thel. V. CAS. 12369-S] Uploading…_

_TV: I can vouch for the Senate Building. My forces decimated the mechanical abominations and secured the edifice._

_ Arbiter? Admiral, I thought this line was secure-_

_ Relax, Stephenson. I requested his presence. Rawlins should be coming in shortly…_

_[Rawlins. V. 182634 (A2)] Uploading…_

_VR: The gang is all here, eh?_

_ Good. Now we can get started. As you all know, recent events have disturbed our information pool regarding our friend the Chancellor. Over the years since First Contact, we have gathered a file on Palpatine. An interesting file, to say the least. His history is clouded; not even our most efficient AIs can collect substantial evidence. We do know that he had a hand in the death of the former Chancellor, Valorum. Quite suspicious that a man with a mysterious past rose up the ranks to become the very leader of the Galactic Republic, don't you think?_

_TV: Suspicious indeed. In addition, my intelligence agents have informed me of an OPERATION: Fist spearheaded by Palpatine himself. I have been told that your missing SPARTAN-IV, Reese, is involved with this._

_ ONI has learned of Fist quite some time ago. I assume you know of its implications._

_TV: Enlighten me._

_ OPERATION: Fist was an experiment started by the Republic's scientific division, and founded by Chancellor Palpatine. We learned from a Republic Intelligence agent that the project was to try to redesign Spartan technology for the Republic's own usage. We've kept it secret for months, knowing that we could use the information for later._

_VR: Then we found the damn armor mechanics on a CIS base in Mygeeto._

_TV: What?_

_ May 16, 2576. Teth. After UNSC Helljumpers cleared the facility, one of our AIs found an encrypted file on their database. After decoding the information, we found the schematics of a near-perfect replica of a SPARTAN-IV Mark VI suit. It was the model given to Petty Officer Second-Class Reese-114._

_TV: Then they are already in their final stages._

_ Not exactly. They're struggling to find an appropriate test subject for their genetic augmentations, a cheap imitation of what Halsey achieved long ago. Considering it is all trial and error at the meantime, I think it is safe to say that they have a long ways to go._

_TV: Wait. You found the blueprints in a CIS base? Are you saying the Separatists stole the plans?_

_ Think again. OPERATION: Fist was a project funded straight from the questionable Chancellor's pocket. Something not even most of the Galactic Council knew about._

_TV…You mean to tell me that Palpatine is a traitor._

_VR: Bingo! He's got it._

_TV: That is preposterous! The Chancellor has been a close ally for quite some time, and from my contacts in the Republic, a firm and just leader. Well-liked among his people._

_VR: Yeah, so was Benedict Arnold._

_TV: Excuse me?_

_ Back to the point. Our new AI, Durandal, discovered some crucial information on the Chancellor's secret file in his quarters._

_**High Priority Asset [2] DRN 0000-1 (Durendal) Uploading…**_

_**D: With relative ease, I must say.**_

_TV: Who is this?_

_VR: Hell, it's you, isn't it?_

_ Director, what in God's-_

_ Calm yourselves, men. It is merely the AI, Durandal. Greetings, Durandal._

_**D: Hello, Needle. Anyways, yes, I did find the information my numerous siblings failed to procure. As I processed the file into my memory logs, there was a thing or two that interested me. Shall I tell the Arbiter, Director?**_

_ By all means, Durandal._

_**D: Do you know what a Sith is, Mr. Vadam?**_

_TV: Certainly. I fought Grevious on my flagship and crossed blades with Dooku on Felucia._

_**D: What would you think if Chancellor Palpatine happened to be one of them?**_

_TV:….._

_**D: (snicker) You guys should see the look on his face. Here, I'll upload the vid to your-**_

_ Hush._

_TV: Impossible. Impossible, I say! The man has worked with the Republic for decades! He is probably the most passionate supporter of CIS destruction! How can a man such as this hate the very government you claim he is collaborating with?_

_**D: Now, tell me Arbiter, why would such an ardent leader of the Galactic Republic want to prolong a war that has devastated countless worlds and murdered billions of people? Why would such a man hold trace amounts of electronic signals connecting with Dooku's flagship? Why would such a man plot to assassinate the former Chancellor? Why would such a man hide a lightsaber centered with crimson-crystal from Ilium in his drawer? Why would such a man create personal entries talking about the final destruction of the Jedi and the revenge of the Sith? Tell me, why.**_

_TV: I-I…Uh…Do you a-actually…._

_VR: I can't believe I'm hearing this. The articulate Thel Vadam lost for words. Someone record this._

_ Watch it, Admiral. It seems he's recovering._

_TV: THE SNIVELING COWARD! HE HIDES BEHIND HIS THRONE OF LIES AND WATCHES AS HIS PEOPLE FIGHT AND DIE FOR HIM! WE WERE HIS PUPPETS ALL ALONG!_

_ Not quite. We've concluded that our unexpected arrival put a stump to his plans. Reese's capture and brainwashing and the Covenant's assistance was probably the most he could do. His plan after taking over the Republic was to complete OPERATION: Fist and unleash his full might unto an "unsuspecting" UNSC and CAS._

_TV: No longer than. I shall prepare the greatest fleet ever to be amassed above Sanghelious. With my naval power, I shall burn his citadel to the ground and crush any foul Covenant remnant that dares defy me._

_ Hold on, Arbiter. We can't march on Coruscant and openly defy him. It must be done secretly. We must give him the pretense that we are still allies with him._

_TV: WHY? We must strike now!_

_ And let hundreds of Jedi die? Not on my watch._

_TV: What? What does the colonel mean?_

_ Order 66. An emergency measure taken when the Jedi Order is found to be acting in treason against the Republic. All the Jedi are to be purged and all traces of their history terminated._

_TV: The Jedi have been the Republic's defenders for countless generations. It makes no sense._

_VR: Not when a Sith is leading the Republic. Once Palpatine finds out we've discovered him, the first thing he'll do is exterminate an enemy he can reach: the Jedi._

_TV: They are too widespread across this galaxy._

_ And surrounded by thousands of clone troopers. All unquestionably loyal to the Chancellor._

_TV: By the gods, he'll kill them all with a single word._

_ That's the point._

_TV: So what shall we do?_

_**D: Simple. We follow along for a few months, always watching and waiting. We deploy undercover teams across the galaxy to watch the Jedi if anything happens. Then, when he thinks he's won, we'll strike. We'll attack en masse and execute the Chancellor using Order 65. The Republic will be saved, and then when all complications are done, we end the Confederation of Independent Systems and obliterate the Covenant and the Prophets once and for all.**_

_TV: Finally, we will eliminate the vermin. What of your Spartan?_

_ Undecided. It is obvious that he has sided with our enemies. Should we deal with him as one, or do we try to rehabilitate him? Let us save it as a matter for another time._

_ My final report is that all CIS ground forces have been rebuffed at this moment._

_VR: I can say the same for up here._

_ Then it is safe to say this conversation is ended. Farewell, gentlemen and Sangheili. And Godspeed. Out. __

_ Out. __

_VR: Out. __

_TV: Out. __

_**D: Cya. **____

**1900 hours, June 2, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Kashyyyk System, Kashyyyk**

"I haven't been here in a long time," First Sergeant Holloway said, a wistful tone to his voice.

"Reminiscent, you are, hmm?" Grand Master Yoda asked.

They were standing atop an observation platform, situated on the upper boughs of a massive tree. Several clone officers were standing around them, armored in a mottled green. Holloway's men were on the beach helping with the defenses. The sergeant felt a twinge of annoyance at the miniscule alien's backward speech, but he pushed it down.

"Kind of. Last time I was here was during the 'Christmas in the Jungle' event. We lost many a good man that day."

"Then, the Confederacy was strong. Now, very weak, they are." Yoda surmised, gently tapping his cane on the wooden floor. "End this quickly, we shall."

"I hope so," Holloway breathed, adjusting his fatigue bottoms up his waist. "I sincerely hope so."

A warbled roar sounded behind them, and the two leaders turned to see Chieftain Tarful and his friend, a Wookie named Chewbacca, coming up to them. They were armed with their bowcasters, and bearing their armor across their furry torsos, Pancho Villa-style. They were huge, standing as tall as Spartans, if not taller. Holloway had personally seen them lift CIS aquatic tanks and hurl them back into the water.

Suffice it to say, he was glad they were on their side.

"Excuse me, if you please," Yoda said, sitting on a chair beside a holographic table. "Discuss with my council, I shall."

A fountain of blue light filtered in from the center of the table, dispersing into the circle of the Jedi Council. They were all seated, save for the few devoted to the Outer Rim sieges.

"Palpatine fixed Grevious' location on Utapau," Ki-Adi-Mundi informed Yoda, voice scratchy from the reception.

"A partial message was intercepted in a diplomatic package from the chairman of Utapau," the newly appointed Anakin said, leaning forward in his chair and enjoying it.

"Hmmm," Yoda grumbled in thought. "Act on this, you must. The capture of General Grevious will end this war. Quickly and decisively, we should proceed."

"The chancellor has requested that I lead the campaign," Skywalker said, to the surprise of the council.

Holloway snorted. The kid was good, but not that good. Retreating to a more personal level in his mind, the sergeant felt a spot of unease grow for the young Jedi. They were good friends, and Holloway felt that his relationship with the fishy Palpatine was beginning to change Anakin. Not in a good way.

"The council will make up its own mind who is to go," Master Windu replied, giving Skywalker a condescending look. "Not the Chancellor."

Holloway never really liked the dark, serious Jedi. He felt that the man was being too hard on Anakin for his bond with Palpatine. The sergeant shrugged. He was just doing his job as the protector of the Republic.

"A master is needed," Yoda added. "With more experience."

"I concur." Mundi agreed. Holloway thought the alien looked slightly comical, with a banana head and all. "Master Kenobi should go."

Kenobi nodded, legs crossed in a business-like manner.

"I agree." Yoda said.

As a chorus of "ayes" rang out, Anakin dropped his head, understanding but still sad.

"Very well," Windu said. "The Council has ended."

As the holographic image dispersed into nothingness, Yoda got up from his seat, joining the first sergeant by the railing. A green-camo armored clone commander came up and knelt beside Yoda.

"The droids have started their main power generators," he informed, clutching a set of binoculars.

"Then now, the time is, commander," Yoda said grimly.

"Yes, sir." The clone replied and nodded.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Come on, sarge, let me at 'em!" a young marine said behind the patient Holloway, eyes fixed on the spectacle of battle below the treetop they were standing on.

The Separatists had assaulted the beachhead with their NR-N99s, raining hell onto the shoreline defenders. Holloway watched the joint scout troopers and Wookies fend off the invaders valiantly.

"Wait, soldier," he grunted, eyes scanning the conflict. "Wait for the signal."

Holloway and his men were stationed there to ward off any enemies trying to flank the city through the route just under the sergeant's elevated position. Brig. Maj. Stanley's men helped on the beach, while Col. Beales and the others waited in the interior city.

Holloway spotted a platoon of battle droids marching along the left flank. That was his cue.

"Weapons, men!" he yelled, priming his M392 Designated Marksman Rifle to his chest. "FIRE!"

He and three dozen of the UNSC Marine Corps. climbed up the mossy tree branch and fired their weapons at the unsuspecting droids below. Their thin bodies shattered under the impact of the semi-armor piercing rounds. Holloway smirked.

He loved shooting up droids.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Sergeant Chips Dubbo rounded the corner, the clattering of the LMA ringing behind him. Sand roiled beneath the Warthog's tires as they tore across the beach. He jerked the wheel to the right, colliding against a cluster of B1 battle droids. Their frail bodies shattered pitifully under the might of the UNSC's trademark vehicle.

"Look at 'em go, sarge!" his subordinate, a one PFC Dillard, exclaimed from the passenger seat.

The droids were fleeing from the LAV, droning helplessly as it created havoc among their ranks. Dubbo heard a gurgle of pain behind him, and the clattering stopped. As he drove onwards, the sergeant risked a glance behind him. Lieutenant Greaves lay on the cluttered beach, a laser mark burned onto his forehead. A rumble drew the Aussie's attention from his slain comrade.

"NR-N99, right beside us!" Dillard warned, firing away at the black behemoth rising from the frothy sea.

At this range, even droids couldn't miss.

A spear of bright crimson lanced across the horizon, gutting the CIS tank from stern to rear. The machine twitched, pieces falling from its ruined frame. Chips slammed down on the accelerator, driving as if hell itself were on his heels. The tank exploded, flames blooming from its body. Dillard whooped in delight, sending jeers at the droids behind them. Chips saw a man in a familiar green UNSC cap standing behind a fortified foxhole.

"I owe you one, man!" he called out.

"Two, actually!" Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker answered back, toting a steaming Spartan Laser.

Dubbo remembered the Gate World battle and smiled. He continued tearing through the droids, Dillard's loud mouth a constant companion. He couldn't help but cackle.

They were UNSC Marines, and they were in their element.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**0900 hours, June 3, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Utapau System, Utapau**

"There's our bogie," Harold whispered, peering through the binoculars at the spidery android more commonly known as General Grevious.

"You guys should've let me take him," Courtney grumbled, fiddling with her M41 Surface-to-Surface Rocket Medium Anti-Vehicle/Assault Weapon.

The two SPARTAN-IVs were hiding behind a pile of boulders built into the vertical cliff wall overlooking Utapau City. They had arrived with a battalion of clones and General Kenobi himself to take down the CIS commander. Said Jedi was confronting Grevious, blue lightsaber in hand. Harold watched as the cyborg wriggled out of his cloak and revealed four mechanical arms, each holding a different lightsaber.

"Oooh, that's just _wrong_," Courtney hissed.

"Can it, soldier," the major replied. "He can hold his own. We just have to take out the droids' rear and help Cody and the clones destroy the CIS force here."

"Okay," the other Spartan said airily. "Look, they've started!"

Sure enough, Grevious had advanced on the Jedi General, sabers whirling in dangerous arcs. Kenobi lunged, a strike the cyborg easily blocked, they spun and struck at each other, engaged in a duel perfected by years of hard training. Harold had to admit, Kenobi might look old, but his Force-enhanced moves were as fast as any Spartan.

An alarm beeped on Harold's wrist gauntlet. Nodding, he put a glove to his helmet.

"Now!" he ordered.

Clones, previously hidden from view, rappelled from a walkway high above the dueling ground, landing to the floor below. Two LAARTs flanked them, floating menacingly in front of the surprised droids. The clones began to fire, blue beams of highly concentrated plasma putting holes in droids.

Immediately, the droids recovered and fired back, and fighters moved to engage the new enemy. Soon, the pit that held the city was a battlefield of heated dogfights and cross fires. Harold and Courtney watched as Grevious scuttled like a spider across the battlefield and climbed into a circular vehicle. Kenobi jumped on his own ride and pursued the general, his lizard-like steed bellowing in excitement.

"Courtney, of you will," Harold grunted, moving back from his position.

"Gladly."

She knelt on the sandy ground and trained her sights on the fleeing Grevious, rocket poised atop her armored shoulder. A targeting reticule on her HUD signified that she had him locked on.

"Firing," she called out.

The Spartan pulled the trigger.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

General Grevious spotted the projectile screaming towards him a second too late. He swerved to the right, but the missile hit. His vehicle groaned and shattered, sending him falling down to the ground miles below.

He spotted an oval landing pad a few meters to his left. Gripping a steel bar jutting from a support railing, he swung his way on top of the pad. He spied Kenobi leaping from his multi-colored varactyl. The Jedi landed beside the cyborg, vibrating electro-staff in one hand.

"Lost your saber, Jedi slime?" he taunted, suppressing a fit of coughing.

Kenobi lunged, staff aimed for the thing's neck. Grevious blocked the blow, only to avoid another sweep of the dangerous tip. The warrior feinted, then lunged once more. Grevious, falling for the fake, was punished with a devastating strike across his chest.

He fell with a grunt. Obi-Wan twirled the staff then plunged it to Grevious' midsection. The general cried in pain and kicked the Jedi in the stomach.

Kenobi flew back, landing with a painful thud to the floor. Grevious approached him menacingly, curling his durasteel fists. Obi-Wan went into a fighter's stance, only to get clocked by the cyborg in the side. Grevious flung him against a stationary fighter on the edge of the landing pad. Kenobi gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain searing through his spine and shoulder blades.

Grevious aimed a punch at the Jedi's face. Kenobi dodged, seeing the cyborg's fist dent the bulkhead. Obi-Wan bent over and pried open the plates covering Grevious' chest. Pumping wires and gears surrounded a small, but beating, heart.

Grevious leered down at the Jedi.

He swung his arm, knocking Kenobi back some meters away. The Jedi groaned, struggling to get up. Grevious kicked him, sending the Jedi sprawling. He stamped his clawed feet twice; his opponent dodged both. Obi-Wan sent a kick across the general's back.

"Aaah!" he cried, clutching his bruised foot. _Bad idea_, he thought grimly.

The cyborg threw him by the collar, sending him over the rim of the landing pad. Obi-Wan managed to hold on the edge. He remembered being in the same position the day his master died.

"Think happy thoughts," he muttered to himself.

Grevious approached, hefting the violet electro-staff menacingly.

"What shall the great Obi-Wan do now that he has been caught?" he inquired mockingly.

_BAM!_

Grevious staggered back, clutching at his chest. He wheezed and choked, stumbling like a drunkard. Kenobi spotted the nine-millimeter hole on the cyborg's faint heart.

With a surge of the Force, he leapt from his position, grabbing the staff from his foe's hands. Grevious' eyes widened in recognition of what was to come.

"No, please…" he croaked.

With a violent swing, Kenobi separated the general's hated head from his shoulder. It rolled down the platform then vanished off the side, down to the pools below. The now lifeless amalgam of flesh and metal fell, landing with a clatter. It twitched once, then was still.

General Grevious was dead.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Nice shot," Courtney appraised her fellow Spartan.

Harold grinned inside his helmet. He hefted the Sniper Rifle System 99D-S2 Anti-Materiel over his shoulder.

"Thanks."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Lieutenant Vincent," said a familiar, deep voice.

The Spartan looked up from where he sat. Jedi Master Mace Windu stood before him, fully cloaked and with the air of a man on a mission. Three other alien masters stood behind him, looking grim and ready,

He was seated in the lobby of the Senate Building, given orders by Fleet Admiral Nagel himself. As to why, he had no idea. Xavier stood up beside him.

"What's going on?" a steely edge to his voice.

Windu looked around, surveying the crowds of business people and spectators crowding the lobby. He leaned forward.

"The Chancellor has betrayed us," he whispered. "He is the Sith master that has evaded us from the very beginning of the war. Come, we must detain him."

Vince processed this information, mind reeling. _Sith?_ _Detain?_ What was going on here?

"Wait, how'd you get this intel?" Vince inquired, skeptical.

"He told one of our order himself. Come, we have no time." He began to move, brown cloak swishing on the marble floor.

"Hold on a sec," Xavier said, hand raised. "Who's your informant?"

"Skywalker." Windu stated, eyebrows raised impatiently.

Vince nodded.

"Xavier, find Anakin. I'll go with Windu and the others."

The other Spartan saluted and raced out of the building, swerving around busy civilians. Vince moved alongside the Jedi Masters, checking his cartridge. As he reached for more ammo, he felt an unfamiliar object attached to his waist.

It was the lightsaber he had taken from the _Hot Gates_.

Funny, he hadn't even bothered to use it when he faced Dooku. They entered the elevator, nerves on overdrive. The green-skinned Nautolan master reached over a pressed a button, and the platform began to ascend.

"This is Master Kit Fisto," Windu said, gesturing to the tentacle alien. The Jedi smiled good-naturedly, and Vince was surprised that the warrior was able to show such good spirits. Windu introduced the pink-skinned, horned one as Saesee Tiin, a renowned pilot and mind reader. The other, a dark Iridonian with long, black braids, was Agen Kolar.

"They are the best I could gather," Mace remarked. "Although I fear it won't be enough."

"Don't worry, if our combined force won't do, Xavier will be sure to call back-up." Vince reassured.

The elevator slid open, and they entered the lavish chamber of the Chancellor. Palpatine's seat swiveled to face them. The pale man smiled, but it never reached his black eyes.

"Master Windu," he drawled in a light, curious voice. "I take it General Grevious has been destroyed?"

Mace said nothing.

"I must say, you're here sooner than expected," the Chancellor commented, leaning forward.

"In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic," Windu stated, igniting his purple lightsaber. The three other Jedi did so as well, lighting up the dark room with their multi-colored weapons. "You're under arrest, Chancellor."

Vince flipped the safety on his battle rifle.

"Are you threatening me, Master Jedi?" Palpatine snarled, all signs of friendliness gone from his pale visage.

"The Senate will decide your fate," Windu replied, dark lips curled in distaste.

"I _am_ the Senate," Palpatine growled, voice shifting to an throaty rasp.

"Not yet," Vince interjected.

Palpatine's gaze locked onto the Spartan as if noticing him for the first time. He smiled then, a cruel imitation of kindness that sent a chill down the lieutenant's spine.

"You brought a Spartan with you, Master Windu?" he asked, hand reaching within the folds of his coat. "Well, that makes two of us."

Before Vince could fully register the comment, Palpatine ignited a crimson saber from his cloak sleeve.

"It's treason, then?" he asked darkly, rising from his seat.

"Haaargh!" he barked.

The Sith Lord leapt from his perch, twisting in the air towards the Jedi. The masters and Vince got into ready positions. Palpatine landed and bared his teeth.

The old man moved with almost serpentine grace, slashing at Kolar with the speed of a man decades younger. Kolar, surprised by the bold move, barely had enough time to block the strike.

Saesee took the opportunity to execute a strong downward blow, yet the Chancellor sidestepped, lunging at the famed Iktotchi. Agen shoved the Sith away from his colleague, deterring the fatal stab. Palpatine snarled and began a flurry of strikes at the two Jedi. There was a blur of red, green, and blue as the three warriors fought in heated close combat.

Windu struck from behind, narrowly missing the Chancellor's back. Palpatine leaned back, ducking three stabs from the Jedi. He bent over and lunged once more.

Saesee Tiin, frustrated from the beginning because he couldn't read the Sith Lord's mind, felt a searing pain in his belly. He gasped, looking down at the ruby blade sticking from his midsection.

He sighed, falling into oblivion.

Palpatine removed his blade from the dead Jedi Master's body and jumped back, facing down the three remaining Jedi.

Vince, now that he was open, fired.

Palpatine spun, melting the bullets in half a millisecond. He raised a hand, and the Spartan flew back and hit a data console.

Fisto and Kolar struck at the same time, hammering the Sith with devastating blows honed with decades of practice. They moved gracefully, yet the old man matched them blow for blow. He leaned back, feeling the heat of the sabers as they stabbed the air in front of his neck. He jumped and slashed while the Jedi were still leaning forward, blades outstretched.

Agen Kolar felt a burning sensation on his torso. He cried out, falling to the floor. He vaguely saw the Chancellor kick his saber hilt away and move in for the kill. Kolar, in his desperation, lifted a dark palm.

Palpatine flew back, but threw his lightsaber in mid-air.

Agen felt another burst of pain bloom in his chest, then all was dark.

Vince tackled the Chancellor from behind, wrapping his strong arms around his thin frame. The Sith wriggled out of his grasp like an eel, then coaxed his lightsaber out from the dead Zabrak's sternum.

_Damn_, Vince thought. _He's already killed two Jedi Masters._

Windu and Fisto faced the Chancellor, blades held at the ready. Palpatine crouched close to the ground.

"Make your move, Jedi," he taunted, spittle flying from his mouth.

Vince ignited his lightsaber and slashed.

A new figure darted from a side door, pummeling Vince with a clenched fist. The Spartan felt his visor crack as the blow sent him sprawling to the floor. He looked up, dazed.

Reese stood there, looking intimidating in his now dirty MJOLNIR Mark-VI armor. The silent spectre reached within his waist belt and withdrew a familiar, curved lightsaber hilt. Dooku's blade ignited, crimson light emitting from the ornate cylinder.

Vince recovered from his shock, knowing what his former friend was here to do.

"Reese," Vince pleaded, standing up slowly. The sounds of pitched battle from the nearby Force-users threatened to distract him, but he stayed focused. "Don't listen to him, man. He's a Sith."

Reese dashed forward, saber raised for the killing strike.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Anakin!"

The Jedi warrior blinked frustrated tears from his eyes, seeking for the source of the voice. Xavier approached him, fully dressed in his UNSC armor.

"What?" he asked, trying to keep the venom from his voice.

Xavier noticed it. He lifted his hands calmly.

"I'm not here to hurt you. Master Windu and the others are arresting Palpatine. Vince is with them," he informed the young man. "You're the one Palpatine revealed his identity to, right?"

Anakin nodded, wiping his eyes.

"Let's get on a speeder and leave this rooftop, okay?" he said in a calming tone. "We need to call some back-up and help Vince."

"Let's use mine," Skywalker said, gesturing to his yellow vehicle.

"Perfect."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Vince felt bones crack as Reese shoved him against the wall. The heavy steel dented considerably, and the opaque blankness of Reese's visor sent an involuntary chill through Vince. _Where was the positive encouraging SPARTAN-IV that everyone knew and respected? Could Dooku and the CIS have warped him that much?_

The lieutenant kicked his enemy off of him, feeling the elastic gel layer give way beneath his metal-encased foot. Reese grunted and stumbled back. Vince pulled back and punched him in the face.

The former UNSC-allied warrior fell to the ground, unconscious.

A sense of accomplishment bloomed in Vince's heart. _It was finished_. Before he could think of a plan to get him back home, an anguished scream rent the air. Vince whirled to see Master Fisto fall to the ground, a bright diagonal slash on his chest. His green lightsaber deactivated, and his breath became heavy.

He strained his head towards Vince and offered him a weary, sad smile.

Palpatine swung, and the Nautolan's head separated from his broad shoulders.

Anger erupted inside the Spartan, and he lifted his battle rifle.

"Bastard!" he yelled, firing away.

Palpatine, momentarily shocked at the prone figure of Reese, only managed to block most of the bullets. Two ripped through the flesh on his shoulder, and he grimaced.

He barely blocked an incredible strong blow from Master Windu. The Sith Lord's lightsaber went spinning across the room, and dropped to the deck, still. Palpatine backed away from the enraged Jedi Master, towards the wide observation window.

Windu approached the disarmed Chancellor, striking out at the window. Palpatine, whose hands were on it, screamed and fell back, support shattered. Windu towered over the cornered Sith Lord, cloak fluttering in the night breeze.

In that moment, Anakin and Xavier walked in. The Jedi was extremely disheveled, and his eyes burned with fueled emotion. Xavier looked at Vince then at the unconscious Reese.

"Dead?" he whispered.

"Knocked out," he answered.

"You are under arrest," Windu said, saber pointed at the downed Palpatine. "My lord," he added sarcastically.

He looked pointedly at Skywalker, who was staring down at Palpatine with mixed emotions.

"Anakin," Palpatine wheezed. "I told you it would come to this. I was right, the Jedi have taken over!"

"The oppression of the Sith will never return," Windu seethed, ignoring the accusation. "You have _lost_."

"No," the Sith spat, hands rising and curling in an all too familiar fashion. "No, no, YOU will die!"

Blue lightning erupted from the man's wrinkled fingers. Windu groaned as the electricity zapped his arm, but he lifted his saber and blocked the deadly tide.

Palpatine twitched spasmodically and screamed as the lightning was redirected to him, but he continued to strike.

Anakin looked away from the bright light, and witnessed the sight through squinted eyes. Vincent and Xavier walked forward, weapons raised.

"I have him!" Windu cried, deterring the Spartans. He looked to Anakin, teeth clenched and voice strained. "He is a _traitor_!"

"I have the power to save what you love!" Palpatine moaned. "You must choose!"

Vince watched in horrified fascination as Palpatine's face transformed into a hideous, wrinkled mask. He grew thrice his age in a span of a few seconds.

"What's he talking about, Anakin?" Vince inquired of the tortured Jedi. He ignored him, instead fixing a furious glare at Windu.

"Don't listen to him, Anakin!" he cried, forcing the lightning even more on the Chancellor's ruined frame.

Palpatine slumped, pain dropping his eyes and scorching his face even more.

"He's going to kill me," he blubbered piteously, head bobbing as the electricity ran through his body. "I c-can't hold any longer. I-I-I'm to w-weak. Anakin, help me!"

He stopped his barrage, lying back against the window corner. His once combed, white hair was frizzled and burned, and heavy wrinkles marked his dark face.

"Help me!" he cried, voice weak.

Windu pointed the saber dangerously close to Palpatine's neck, baring his white teeth.

"I-I can't hold on any l-longer," the Sith gasped, exhausted.

"I am going to end this, once, and for all." Windu stated, glaring down at the Sith Lord in disgust.

"You can't" said Anakin, still staring at Mace through teary vision. "He must stand trial."

"Screw this," Xavier muttered, lifting his assault rifle.

"NO!" Anakin cried, blocking the Spartan's line of sight. "You mustn't!"

"Come on, Anakin, quit acting like a baby," Vince said, reaching to move him away. "He's been playing your Republic all along. There's no use for a trial."

"He's right!" Windu yelled. "He has control over the Senate and the courts. He's too dangerous to be left alive!"

"I'm too weak," Palpatine whimpered. "Don't kill me, p-please!"

"It's not the Jedi Way!" Anakin implored. "He must live!"

Vince could see the pain and anguish on his friend's face. There was something going on here, and he didn't like it. He pushed Anakin aside.

"I'll do it," he snarled, reloading his rifle.

"No!" Anakin blocked him again. "Please, Vince, I need him!"

"What?" Xavier said, confused. "You _need_ him?"

Windu raised his lightsaber, ignoring the constant pleas from Palpatine's cracked lips. Palpatine uttered a terrifying screech, but Vince saw something in Palpatine's eyes that unsettled him.

Windu swung.

"_NOOO!_" Anakin howled, igniting his own lightsaber. He slashed upwards, cutting Mace's saber hand off his arm. Windu yelled in pain.

Vince cursed and tackled Anakin to the ground. He turned his head to Xavier.

"Kill Palpatine!" he ordered.

Xavier lifted his gun.

Palpatine's face turned from horrifyingly desperate to gleefully victorious. He cackled, emitting Sith lightning from his outstretched palms. With one hand, he electrified the tormented Windu. With his other, he struck out at Xavier.

Windu screamed, now vulnerable to the blue electricity. Lightning enveloped the proud Jedi warrior, highlighting his skull for a brief moment. Palpatine growled and flung Windu off the balcony. Vince watched helplessly as the Jedi vanished into the night.

Xavier yelled in pain and anger, dropping his weapon. His shields flared and depleted, leaving his body to the whim of the crazed Sith Lord. Palpatine intensified the voltage, and Vince could smell the scorched flesh from where he lay.

"XAVIER!" he cried, leaving Anakin. He sprinted and pushed Xavier out of the way. He turned and fired.

A sphere of invisible force coalesced around the triumphant Palpatine. He laughed as the bullets pinged harmlessly off the invulnerable barrier.

"What can one Spartan do to me, lieutenant?" he questioned, ugly face twisted in glee.

Paul, Carl, and Raj burst into the room, MJOLNIR armor a sight for sore eyes for Vince.

"Carl, if you would." Paul remarked.

"Gladly," the big SPARTAN-IV said, smirking under his helmet.

He pulled the trigger on the M247H Heavy Machine Gun he bore. 7.62mm rounds traversed the chamber, pounding on the Force-Shield Palpatine created. Raj and Carl raced across the room, rifles up and firing.

"It won't matter!" Palpatine snarled. "All of you will die!"

He spread his arms, and the shield erupted and covered the room, the Spartans were flung against the walls, denting the metal. While they were down, Palpatine pressed a button on his thin holoprojector.

The figure of a clone commander fizzled into view. He stared at Palpatine with apparent surprise.

"My lord," he began.

"Execute Order 66," he growled imperiously.

The clone froze for a minute, but nodded in understanding and obedience.

"It will be done, my lord."

The figure vanished.

"It has begun, Spartans," Palpatine told the struggling Spartans. "The Jedi will be eliminated, and the Sith shall rule their empire once more."

"Like hell," Vince scoffed. "FIRE!"

The Spartans emptied their clips once more, but the bullets didn't leave a mark on his twisted frame.

"The UNSC will stop you," Paul said, moving back and reloading calmly.

"The UNSC will do nothing," Palpatine spat. "The CAS will do nothing. One little thing their infernal AIs couldn't glean from my databanks was that I added something into the Order 66 detail requirements."

Raj unclipped a fresh grenade and threw it. Palpatine glanced at it with distaste. The grenade blew up in midair.

"All UNSC or Confederation of Allied Species troops, personnel, or non-essential personnel were to be eliminated at all costs."

The Spartans froze for a split second, then renewed their efforts. They wasted their ammo on the Sith Lord; they couldn't hope to beat the Sith in close combat.

"As the word spreads, my forces will clean away your mark like a blemish," Palpatine laughed. "Then you will be no more."

The door burst open, and a group of security clones ran in, weapons trained onto the Spartans. Carl cursed, bringing his behemoth gun over to face the new enemy.

"Blast 'em!" the lead trooper ordered.

**1000 hours, June 3, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Utapau System, Utapau, Pau City**

"_Execute Order 66._"

Commander Cody nodded, feeling an unfamiliar emotion surge in his chest. He watched Kenobi ride the varactyl across the cliff wall. He shook his head, dispelling any objection rearing its ugly head in his heart.

_He had orders_.

He gestured to an artillery tank behind him.

"Blast him!" he yelled, pointing to the Jedi and his steed.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Yes sir, consider it done." Harold remarked into his COM device.

"Was that command?" Courtney asked, inserting a fresh cartridge into her launcher. The two Spartans were still on their cliff-side perch, picking off any droid enemies that harassed the Republic troops.

Harold was silent as he reloaded his sniper rifle. Emotions stirred in his gut, yet it all made sense when he thought about it.

"Yeah." he said.

"Well," she replied. "What'd they say?"

"The chancellor's betrayed us," he told her. "He's ordered for all Jedi to be killed, and all UNSC or CAS forces to be eliminated."

Courtney was silent as she processed this.

"Well shit," she remarked.

"That's putting it in simpler terms," he responded.

'What did the admiral tell you?" she said, still reeling from the news.

"We need to save the general," he said, pointing to Kenobi, who was scaling the cliff walls atop his steed, Boga. "No doubt Cody's already caught wind of the news."

Sure enough, they witnessed the clone commander motion to a Republic tank, then back at Kenobi.

"Bastards," Courtney hissed, lifting her rocket launcher.

She pulled the trigger, and the missile flew towards the tank, leaving a trail of smoke exhaust in its wake. The projectile hit, sending the vehicle to the ground. The walker exploded in a fiery ruin.

"Gotcha," she celebrated under her breath.

"There's no time," Harold said, already retreating inside the cave entrance to their rear. "They've sent fighters."

Two ARC-170s flew into the pit like hawks, plasma torpedoes bee lining towards the two Spartans. Courtney cursed and ducked into the cave.

The missiles hit, tearing apart the ledge they previously stood on. Harold gestured to his teammate.

"Hurry, we need to get the general," he urged.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Kenobi listened to the two SPARTAN-IVs, hardly believing what he was hearing. _The chancellor's betrayed us? How?_

"Please, sir," Harold pleaded. "You have to come with us. You life is in danger."

"Hold on, major," Kenobi said, skepticism evident in his voice. "Let me just talk to the commander, I'm sure I can negotiate something-"

His eyes rolled inside his head and he slumped forward, falling off the varactyl and to the landing platform floor. Courtney pulled her fist back, flexing.

Boga squawked in alarm.

"Cool it, lizard," she ordered. "He's only unconscious."

"Hurry, I can hear them coming," Harold said, climbing into the cockpit of the Pelican.

Courtney threw the Jedi into the blood tray, then stepped inside, hanging on the aft hatch pulley.

A squad of white-armored clones sprinted down the walkway, DC-15s firing at the fleeing Pelican. Boga screeched and charged them, flinging them off the railing.

"Good girl!" Courtney acclaimed, firing her pistol at any surviving clones.

A sick sensation emerged in her gut as she headshotted a fleeing clone. These were men she had worked with, fought with. Hell, even joked with. It was sickening to kill them, but it was even more sickening to witness them change so quickly. They were trying to kill people who had led them into battle, even saved their lives. Harold seemed to notice the uncharacteristic silence.

"I'm surprised too, Courtney," he admitted. "But they're just puppets."

"I'll make sure they realize that," she growled.

The Pelican flew onwards to the waiting Supercarrier, the UNSC _Waterloo_. Harold could already see Third Fleet was hard pressed. Fending off both CIS _Republic_ ships wasn't an easy task, but the UNSC was the best of the best.

They would pull through.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Vince brought down his rifle on the clone's helmeted skull, eliciting a pained grunt. He finished with a knee to the belly and a hard twist of his enemy's neck. The clone dropped, a sack of flesh encased in white-red armor.

He didn't enjoy killing the clones. He was too used to killing _alongside_ them. Sure, they were his former partners, but their orders were too strict to be ignored. If they wanted to kill Spartans, then they were in for a difficult time.

Footsteps clacked on metal flooring, signaling a _new _wave of clones. Vince cursed. He didn't want to deal with Palpatine _and_ a fresh battalion of Republic troopers. He saw the shattered window behind the boasting Sith Lord.

It was now or never.

"Everyone, through the window!" he ordered, gathering the broken Xavier in his arms. He looked around, searching for Reese.

He was gone.

Suppressing a frustrated stream of expletives, he fired his weapon at the chancellor. Palpatine bared his teeth and blocked the bullets, only to face a wave of four SPARTAN-IVs running full speed towards him.

He leapt aside.

The Spartans jumped off the platform.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Staff Sergeant Gus Simmons swerved the Cutlass to the right, avoiding a hail of plasma fire from above. An ARC-170 dove in, firing like there was no tomorrow.

Simmons banked to the right, catching the clone pilot off guard. The UNSC pilot barrel rolled and flanked the fighter, firing his twin missiles.

The Republic starfighter exploded under the intense firepower.

He grimaced, watching the debris fall to the city below. The sergeant pressed a button on his COM device, hearing the latest news.

"_All UNSC forces, evacuate the planet, I repeat, all UNSC forces, evacuate the-"_

He cut the link. He'd heard all he needed to hear.

"Comanche Nine, on me. We're leaving Coruscant."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Slipspace vector from Coruscant en route to UNSC headquarters above Naboo**

The remaining Spartans gathered inside the _Hot Gates_ map room, feeling tired but none the worse for wear. Admiral Vick Rawlins leaned back in his chair, tan face worn out and serious.

"I need a sitrep, colonel," he barked suddenly.

"Seventy-three dead, enemy casualties estimated to be at fifty-nine." Stephenson sighed. "Although we were able to inform most of the combat personnel of the betrayal, they attacked us pretty hard."

"And the Jedi?" Vince put in.

"Relatively unharmed. We were able to evacuate most of them in time before they invaded the temple. A few stayed behind to hold them off."

"Poor bastards," Rawlins grumbled. "Too many damn heroes."

"We will avenge them," a deep voice spoke from the open hatch.

They turned to see a heavily bandaged Mace Windu walk in, dark skin looking even darker from the residual burns. His arm was in a cast, and he wasn't in one piece.

Vince rose from his seat, baffled.

"A Phantom dropship intercepted my fall," he explained. "They used their grav lift to pull me inside their ship. The CAS soldiers treated my wounds, and luckily, they revived me from certain death."

"That's good to hear," Vince responded.

"Your friend, I heard, was not so lucky." Mace added, pity and compassion in his black eyes.

Vince stiffened, and he turned to Admiral Rawlins.

"Permission to leave the room, sir?" the Spartans asked simultaneously, voices tight.

"Permission granted." the man answered, understanding.

The Spartans left in single file to the infirmary.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Xavier was lying on the bed, armor gone. Numerous wires were hooked up to his body, and IV bags hung over his head. A monitor beeped quietly to his left.

His white skin was blackened beyond repair, charred and flaky. The lightning had cooked his body under the gel layer, attaching it to his skin. He could only imagine how much it would've hurt to feel the elastic layer peeled off his body. He looked nothing like the happy, healthy SPARTAN-IV Vince had trained and fought with.

He sat down beside his friend, knowing words would never be enough.

That was how Spartans worked.

"Doc said he won't last he night," Carl boomed, low voice doing nothing to calm Vince down. "He's strong. Stronger than me. He'll pull through."

Raj leaned back against the wall, crossing a leg over another. He was silent, as always.

"It wasn't your fault, Vince," Paul assured him. "The chancellor was just too strong."

Vince nodded, not saying a word.

A sudden groan issued from the injured Spartan's ruined mouth. Vince and the others leaned forward.

"Vince, that you?" Xavier croaked.

"Yeah, we're all here," he told his friend.

"Where am I?" he added, voice an almost imperceptible whisper.

"In the sick bay, on the _Hot Gates_," Paul said, moving over to Xavier. "We pulled out of there once we were outnumbered. We're safe now."

"Paul retreating?" Xavier intoned, acting surprised. "Who ever heard of such a thing?"

The others chuckled.

"How much time do I have, Vince?" Xavier rasped.

"Not long," Vince said. No amount of biofoam could repair a fatal wound like that. It was best to be blunt. "A few hours."

Xavier nodded, no trace of sadness on his face. Instead, a hard resignation was stamped on his scorched features.

"He got me that bad, huh?" he asked.

They nodded.

Raj left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Where's Rajjie boy off to?" the wounded warrior asked playfully. He scoffed. "he's probably going off to the armory to snatch my weapons."

They chuckled again.

"We'll make this right, Xavier," Carl reassured him. "I can tell you that."

"Thanks, big guy," Xavier responded.

He turned to Vince.

"Make sure to kill that old son of a bitch for me, okay?" he said, eyes boring into his friend's soul.

"I will." Vince said simply. Xavier sighed in accomplishment.

When Vince said it like that, then one should already consider it done.

"Tell old Harry I'll miss him bossing me around," added Xavier. He began to weaken, deflating like a balloon. He grinned. "Oh, and tell Courtney that she…has a…nice…"

He fell silent.

**0234 hours, June 4, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Naboo System, Naboo**

First Lieutenant Xavier-071 succumbs from his wounds.

He made it sure to die with a smile on his face.

**AN: As always, R&R. Expect sooner updates, by the way.**


	6. Converging Point

**AN: Wow! It feels **_**good **_**to be writing this story again! School's pretty tough, considering I have two AP and three honors classes to catch up with. I've been able to upload a few chapters for MiddleEarth Campaign, but I haven't had time to come back to this. Oh, I learned I made a mistake in Stress Point. Renfield is supposed to be Rearback. I make typos like crazy, so bear with me. Just switch those two. Again, sorry.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Halo or Star Wars. Those rights belong to LucasArts and Bungie (343 Industries). Any character(s) or object(s) not included in each company's respective saga is mine. All the rest are theirs. **_

**0900 hours, June 4, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Naboo System, Naboo, Orbital Defense Platform **_**Hellespont**_

"And so we commit the bodies of our fallen brethren into space," Fleet Admiral Eckhardt Nagel announced, hands clasped behind his back.

A bridge officer nodded solemnly and pressed a control on the panel. There was a steady _whumf _as the metal canisters holding the ash were ejected from their portside sockets, floating out into space and beyond.

Vince and his fellow Spartans stood rigidly at attention, statues in the midst of a sea of white. Every personnel on the station were present in the bridge, all decked in their Navy regalia. Nagel gestured to Holloway, who looked surprisingly and uncharacteristically neat. The sergeant nodded and turned to the row of Spartans and soldiers.

"Honors…_ten hut_!" he barked.

They all saluted as one.

"Each of these treasured men and women gave their life in this time of crisis," Nagel said, accented voice flowing like sweet honey through the crowd. "Even in death, their life shines like the stars in space. Let their sacrifice never be forgotten."

Nagel cast a glance at the armored Spartans, particularly at Vince.

"Never," he whispered.

Vince watched those canisters float onwards, melding with the ever-present black, until his eyes could not distinguish their shapes any longer.

He turned; discovering that in his reverie, most of the crew had dispersed out of the room. Only a few techies were working, trying not to notice the giant warrior in the middle of the chamber. Nagel was watching him with understanding eyes, standing a couple of meters away from him.

"The loss of a brother is always hard, Spartan," he told Vince. "Especially ones that are treasured more than oneself."

"I appreciate your understanding, sir." Vince replied politely.

"You are most welcome. I have been through your situation, lieutenant, I know how it feels. Although it can be difficult, the only thing stronger than my sadness is revenge."

Vince looked up. It felt like a burning coal had been dropped in his sternum, spreading its flames throughout his body. He pictured the twisted face of Palpatine and almost yelled in fury.

Nagel kept on staring, his eyes infuriating the Spartan, yet calming him at the same time.

Vince checked himself, noting his blood levels dropping on his sensors. He inhaled and exhaled, stamping his anger until it was fully snuffed out.

"Revenge is what I seek, sir." he said.

Nagel smiled with compassion.

"I have learned that gaining satisfaction with blood will only win you a bucket of tears, my friend. You will confront Palpatine, I am sure of that, but killing him will not bring Xavier back."

Vince repressed the urge to say, "_Do you think I don't know that?"_ He merely nodded. He knew what he wanted, but following the orders of his superiors always came first.

"We need the chancellor, or should I say emperor, alive. We can ransom him for the complete surrender of the Empire. They will be either too loyal or _completely_ loyal to Palpatine. If they surrender, then we will work to return the galaxy to a state of republic. If they sacrifice the man to keep the Empire alive a little longer, then we'll have to take it by force."

Vince nodded once more.

"Permission to speak, sir?" he asked.

"Granted," Eckhardt answered.

"When will we be sent out again?"

"Oh you Spartans," the admiral chuckled, "Always looking for the next mission. If you want to know in such short notice, we are preparing to take Sector 00. When we capture the Gate World, then a steady flow of reinforcements should come in."

"Thank you, sir." The Spartan responded. "Is there anything else, sir?"

Nagel shook his head.

"You are dismissed, lieutenant. We will inform you and your team if any mission comes up."

Vince straightened and saluted, then smartly pivoted to the door. Just as he crossed the threshold, Nagel's voice turned him around.

"Oh, and Vincent," he said, a grin on his wrinkled face. "One of the reasons why we have to capture the Gate World is because we need more soldiers like you."

Vince froze.

"We'll need more SPARTAN-IVs."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_All UNSC and CAS forces have withdrawn from all Republic-held planets, my lord. Save for Naboo."_

Emperor Palpatine nodded, stroking his chin with a gnarly hand. He would have expected the UNSC to move there. The Naboo people were the UNSC's pathetic sympathizers. If anyone would aid them, it would be them.

"Understandable," he wheezed aristocratically, facing the shaky holographic image of the clone commander, Cody. "And the Jedi?"

"We killed all we could, emperor. The UNSC had the temple well defended, and they managed to evacuate most of the despicable occupants. We got a few, one of them Cin Drallig."

The former chancellor smiled, satisfied with the hated swordmaster's demise. One less Jedi to deal with.

"The others?"

"_Fortunately, the marines couldn't reach all of them in time. Many of the Jedi committed to the Outer Rim have been disposed of. The numbers are only coming in now, so the exact quantity is unknown, sir."_

"That will be all then, commander," the emperor decided. "You may leave."

Cody bowed, and then his image fizzed out of existence.

Palpatine sighed with satisfaction, leaning back in his cushioned chair. He noticed the dark, cloaked figure step into his office.

"Ah, Darth Vader," he croaked. "Have you completed your assignment?"

The former Jedi nodded slowly, burning, amber eyes shining in the shadows. Palpatine suppressed a grin. He was his greatest conquest, a warrior far greater than Maul or Dooku had ever been. With the boy, he could place the whole galaxy in his grasp.

"What have the Prophets declared?" Palpatine asked.

"They will aid us in our conquest. They have already deployed a quarter of their fleet to the Gate World."

"And the forces here?"

"We are communicating with them."

Palpatine nodded.

"Good. You are dismissed."

Anakin Skywalker bowed then left the dark office, leaving the even darker emperor to his dreams of absolute rule.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

PFC Wallace Rearback had never been so terrified in his life.

Of course, there were times in his life that came pretty close. The op in New Babylon, his first firefight, a few days ago. Those were times when even his bones felt frozen to his clammy skin.

That had been bad.

Stuck in the middle of a pack of hungry Jiralhanae pretty much topped them by a mile.

The shivering private recalled the moment when he had fled the others, hearing the Yan'me and Geonosians approach the group. Heard the other marine splashing behind him, the frantic yells as the aliens attacked. In hindsight, he knew leaving the group had been a bad idea.

Rearback had fled back the way they came, overcome with panic. He remembered smashing into a Brute, the dirty armor sticking to his lips. The primate had smiled, baring all his blood-stained canines.

Before he could scream, the marine behind him opened fire, yelling out to the others. The Brutes shrugged off the rounds, descending upon the unfortunate soldier like hawks. Rearback's frightened shriek mingled with the other's pained screams.

The Brutes had trussed him up, dragging him along the tunnels for hours on end. Hours became days, and the marine wondered why they hadn't eaten him yet. In the end, he figured that they were still full from their last meal.

After what seemed an eternity, he saw one of them, a gigantic Chieftain, converse with a clone on a holopad. The private caught a few words, but it was enough.

_Order 66…kill Jedi…UNSC and CAS eliminated_.

When the link cut, the Chieftain turned to the shaking marine, grinning. He licked his chops and approached Rearback.

Wallace closed his eyes, praying for a swift end, knowing that it would not be granted.

_Pop!_

There was a groan, and then cold water splashed on his face. Rearback opened one eye.

The Chieftain was on the ground, scurrying across the murky water. He was clutching his head, shaking it to and fro.

The other Brutes started, confused. They raised their Spikers, firing wildly into the darkness ahead. There were more shots, and three other Jiralhanae fell to the ground. The remaining Brutes roared and charged into the dark.

Rearback heard the sounds of pitched combat going on ahead, the sounds of hard punches and splashes continued, until it was silent again.

A Brute flew from the black, falling to the floor with a splash. Rearback noticed in amazement that the alien's head had been twisted all around. He didn't know whether to shout in celebration or vomit.

Then he felt the claw on his back collar and the hot breath on his neck.

"Time to die, human," the Chieftain snarled.

Rearback saw a flash of orange dash into the tunnel, and the weight of the Chieftain was lifted from his throat. He whirled, seeing the figure pummel the Brute to the ground. The alien growled and reached for his hammer, but the Spartan withdrew his pistol and held it against the thing's face.

Rearback closed his eyes as the orange giant pulled the trigger.

He felt a splash of blood on his cheek, and he repressed the urge to vomit once more. He slowly opened his eyes.

The Spartan looked almost mythical in his advanced suit of indestructible armor, scars and stains not diminishing his aura but amplifying it. His amber visor looked straight at Rearback.

"What's your name, soldier?" he asked in a cold voice.

"PFC Wallace R-Rearback, sir." the man answered, shakily returning a salute.

"UNSC?" the warrior replied.

"Y-yes, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'," he responded, turning away. He inserted a fresh mag into the pistol's chamber. "I'm not your superior."

"B-But, you're a Spartan, aren't you?" Rearback stammered, rubbing his scarred throat.

The supersoldier was silent. He turned back to the nervous marine.

"By my knowledge, every UNSC personnel on Coruscant are gone by now." he informed the private.

Rearback's chest tightened, and he felt a cold darkness seep into his brain. He was the only one left on the planet. His squad, the SEALS, the damn _fleet_ was probably hundreds of light-years away right now. He groaned, kneeling to the water in despair.

Reese watched the boy grovel on the floor. Pity and disgust warred in his emotional chambers, each trying to surface. He merely shook his head, knowing that hat he was going to do was stupid.

"Soldier, hey," he called. The boy kept on whimpering, talking to himself in fright. "SOLDIER!"

Rearback yelped, falling back. He stared at Reese like a deer in the headlights.

"Here, come with me," the Spartan told him. "You'll be much safer that way."

The soldier was stunned.

"W-Will you lead me back to UNSC territory?" he asked.

"The UNSC has no territorial claims in this sector, much less the galaxy. However, Naboo is a strong ally of them, much more so than the Empire. Your brethren will probably be there."

He began to walk down the sewer tunnel. Soon, he heard Rearback scamper up beside him. There was a moment of blissful silence for Reese as he led the marine down the grimy passageways.

'So," Rearback began, interrupting Reese's peace. "Why do you refer to the UNSC as 'them'?"

"What do you mean?" Reese inquired, knowing exactly what he meant.

'You're a SPARTAN-IV, right? That should mean you're part of the UNSC, so you should say 'us'."

"I have no allegiance," Reese said after a while. "I lost that right a long time ago."

Rearback paused in confusion, but hurried to catch up with the Spartan's long strides.

"So you're Empire?" the marine said, gulping quietly.

"No," he replied. "Well, I used to be. I was forced under their will, but I gathered my senses a few hours ago. I didn't want to be the puppet of a crazed emperor."

"Why don't you return, then?"

"It's not that simple, private." said Reese.

"Try me."

Boy, that marine had a lot of guts after acting like a baby a few minutes ago. Reese decided whether to tell him, and in the end, it didn't really matter.

"Two weeks ago. My first mission under "Republic" control. They sent me to a joint UNSC/CAS base in Hoth, where supposedly Forerunner artifacts were hidden. The chancellor did not want them to get their hands on the materials, so he sent me."

Rearback was silent, thankfully. Reese did not want any interruptions.

"I arrived there under the cover of the fiercest snowstorm I had ever witnessed. I managed to sneak into the building. The home AI was preoccupied with the decoy trojans the mercenary sent in. I followed my orders then bailed out."

"What were your orders?" Rearback asked, almost in a whisper.

Reese turned to the marine.

"Kill everyone in the building and blow it up afterwards."

Silence.

"Fortunately," Reese continued, aware of the terrified state his new partner was in. "The AI was a little dumb. We managed to pen it in and terminate its data."

"You didn't answer my first question." Rearback responded.

"I did. You see, private," Reese said. "I spilt the blood of my people. Literally tore them limb from limb. Although I can't remember all the details, I do recall beheading a young scientist with a steel frame. Even though I'm somewhat back to normal, I can't run away from what I've done.

"I'm damned."

They finally made it to a manhole. Reese took the ladders first and opened it with a great wrench. Sunlight poured into the tunnels, blinding Wallace for a moment. He grunted and climbed the ladders, one hand over his face.

Luckily, the hole opened up to an empty industrial area. They were in a dirty alleyway, frightening a few hobos in the process. One look at Reese sent them scurrying away to another hellhole.

Rearback saw the glittering spires in the distance, so he knew they were far from any trouble here.

"This is the factorial sector," Reese explained. "The docks shouldn't be far from here. We can hijack a fighter and fly to Naboo, where I'll drop you off."

"And you?" Rearback inquired.

"I have my own business to take care of," he answered. "You focus on fighting a war, marine."

Rearback nodded.

They turned a corner, still looking out for any determined patrols. They crossed a railed bridge over a sludge creek and made it to the docks.

The place was busier than expected. Individuals of every species were milling about, haggling and repairing equipment. Several shops had been opened on either side of the street, drawing attention from many people. The hangar area was to the east, and Wallace could see the looming hulk of a Venator-class Star Destroyer.

He could also see dozens of clone trooper squads patrolling the area, keeping a stiff eye on any suspicious behavior.

"Get out of here!" Rearback hissed. "You'll be seen!"

"I intend to do just that, soldier." Reese answered cryptically.

Before the private could figure out what he meant, the Spartan lifted his pistol to the sky and fired once.

The resounding crack sent the crowd in a tizzy, clearing a path but drawing the attention of the clones.

The nearest squad opened fire.

Reese hefted Rearback over his broad shoulder and ran.

Wallace watched as the Spartan leaped over the clones, landing a dozen yards behind them. He turned a fraction and emptied his clip into the white cluster, felling two of them. The rest scattered, finding cover and keeping up their attack.

Reese and Rearback flew through a hail of concentrated plasma, amazingly avoiding any injury. Wallace was amazed at how fast Reese was; he was fluid, moving with unparalleled grace through the road. Two clones tried barring their path, DC-15s up and ready.

Rearback roared and lifted his own rifle, pressing the trigger and firing with reckless abandon. The first clone fell, seven holes punched into his armor. The second fell prey to Reese's metal-encased foot. His chest dented and collapsed, sending him to the ground.

They reached the object of their attention, a medium-sized two seater with a Republic logo on its grey hull. Reese opened the side door and threw the soldier inside. He fired a few shots and got in, immediately on the controls.

"Hurry!" Rearback urged. "They're coming!"

Sure enough, the clones were hightailing it towards the ship, red lasers peppering the side with much force. Rearback felt the ship shake as a thermal detonator found its mark.

"We're off!" Reese announced calmly.

The ship rumbled as it lifted off, leaving the determined clones to the ground. They sped up, sending the marine flying. He hit the back wall, cursing.

"What was that for?" he groaned.

"Want to live, private?" Reese growled.

They flew into the atmosphere, and Wallace looked back to see a veritable fleet on their tail. He gulped.

"Um, sir…" he warned.

"I know. Hold on to something."

Rearback clutched onto the side handle with much fervor, closing his eyes in preparation. Reese punched a few buttons on the panel.

Space wavered, causing the bright stars to stretch diagonally before them. Speed like no other pushed the ship forward. The hyperspace jump made it look like the vessel had disappeared from view.

The Imperial task force knew better than to chase the ship. The captains knew where it was heading. They didn't want to face a full UNSC fleet with only three Star Destroyers.

To them, the peaceful planet of Naboo was a death sentence.

**1532 hours, June 10, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Naboo System, Naboo, Theed, UNSC Embassy**

"Did he tell you anything about where he was headed?" Vince asked, staring into the wide eyes of the young private.

"Like I said, sir," PFC Wallace Rearback replied smoothly. "He didn't tell me anything. All he said was that he had to take care of his business. We weren't exactly best friends, lieutenant sir."

Vince nodded, still a bit frustrated. He waved to one of the security guards at the door. The entrance slid open.

"You are dismissed, private. Enjoy Naboo while it lasts."

Rearback sighed in relief and saluted. He all but skipped out of the interrogation room. Vince exhaled, knowing that he was nowhere nearer to locating his former comrade.

A beep sounded on his earpiece, and he brought a hand up to it.

"Second Lieutenant Vincent-123," he said.

"_Prep your team, lieutenant," _Fleet Admiral Nagel informed him. _"We are going to war_."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

When the news reached Sector 00, the whole planet went into complete lockdown, prepping troops and forbidding any export. They started to receive reinforcements and supplies by the hour, turning the once peaceful Gate World into an impenetrable fortress. A total of seven fleets were gathered over Sector 00 and more to come.

They knew it would be the first place the UNSC would go**. **The emperor, however, would not allow it. He wanted to trap their forces inside the galaxy, beating them until they died in their own cage. If additional reinforcements came from the other side, the whole planet would fall under UNSC clutches.

Emperor Palpatine did _not_ tolerate failure.

Groundside, thousands of clone troopers were gathered, covering every strategic position and every vital area. It was said a quarter of the 501st held defensive positions in the Control Room.

Needless to say, they had the planet completely secure.

However, would it be enough?

For the UNSC was smart enough not to be victim to the Empire's opening salvo. In order to reduce casualties, they gave permission to another individual who wanted to see the Empire crumble. To see it fall to its knees, regretting the day they had ever wronged him. If one knew anything about Sangheili, the most important thing to know is to _never_ tarnish one's pride.

The Arbiter was furious.

And there'd be hell to pay.

**0849 hours, June 11, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Sector 00 [Gate World]**

"Sir, numerous contacts approaching just outside the firing zone." Lieutenant Beronu informed Fleet Admiral Jassen.

The sixty-one-year-old human male stroked his grey-black beard, peering into the darkness beyond. His _Procurator_-class Star Destroyer was well capable of handling any UNSC or CAS destroyer, but he knew that the appropriate amount of firepower would send his ship to the planet's surface.

Right now, he wondered whether the approaching enemies were UNSC or Confederation. He shrugged, grunting. Either way, they were bound to bring their heavy weapons. He had seen some of their Supercarriers in action.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

"They're hailing us, admiral." Bridge Officer Canthun stated, sweat glistening his tanned forehead.

"Patch it through," he ordered in a cultured Coruscanti accent.

The holographic figure of the battle-dressed Thel Vadam fizzled onto the projector. Jassen smiled and leaned forward, eye-to-eye with the now-miniscule Sangheili.

"Well, well, well, Arbiter," he said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Enough with the small talk, Admiral Jassen," the alien snapped, baritone voice quavering with barely controlled rage. "I am giving you one chance to surrender the Holy Relic to us. I do not enjoy crushing foes who were once dear allies."

Jassen sighed.

"I cannot do that, Arbiter," he answered.

"So be it," Thel replied, turning away. "We shall remind you of the grave mistake you have made."

The figure fizzed out of view.

"Sir, they're approaching!" Beronu cried.

Jassen was well aware of that. He noticed a section of the Confederation fleet part ways with the bulk.

"They're trying to flank us," he whispered, both impressed and surprised. "Canthun! Inform Third Battle Group of their maneuver. Do not let them cross the line!"

"Yes, sir." Canthun said.

The battle had begun.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Starboard ninety degrees! Fire all turrets!" the Arbiter commanded.

"Firing all turrets," the technician Sangheili responded dutifully, initiating the control sequence.

Their lateral lines heated, and the plasma missiles streaked across space to burn through the Imperial frigate's hull. The ship, tiny compared to Thel's _Reverence_-class cruiser _Ardent Flame_, split into fiery fragments and fell apart.

The Elites in the bridge roared in celebration.

"Arbiter, two _Venator_-class destroyers approaching port side. They have fired heavy turbolasers."

Two rumbles sent some of the Sangheili to the ground, leaving them ashamed of their momentary weakness.

"_Two?_" Vadam growled incredulously. "Do they mock us? 'Mortanee, inform them how this ship garnered more CIS kills than any in the Confederation's numbers!"

"My extreme pleasure, my lord," the Weapons Master responded, clicking his mandibles in excitement.

"Burn them until they are nothing but cinder and ash!" the Arbiter cried. "None who dares deceive the Sangheili shall live to boast about it! By the blood of our forefathers, we shall _crush them_!"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Fleet Master Noro 'Vatak was a patient Sangheili.

Patience, he had always said, was a value treasured above all others. It could get you through difficult times, appease others, and win out in the end.

That's why he had no trouble waiting for his fleet to obliterate the small blockade in front of them.

An Imperial Star Destroyer floated into view, unleashing a barrage of heavy turbolasers on an unsuspecting CIS-class cruiser. The cruiser folded under the impact, its shields already disabled by ion cannons.

Noro grunted in disgust, fingering one of his mandibles.

"Mara, full speed ahead." he ordered one of the bridge Elites. "Vent all power to shields and cannons once we are in combat position."

"Yes, Fleet Master."

The _Reverence_-class ship slowly moved into position, horizontal to the Star Destroyer. The destroyer fired, its lasers dissipating against the other cruiser. Noro calmly waved a claw.

The lateral lines heated, and the enemy craft burst from the impact of the plasma cannons. The ship groaned and slowly began to fall to the surface, trailed by fire and debris. The Elites in the bridge cheered.

"Major Karam, order all ships to commence to the surface," he stated. "It's time we took this battle to the ground."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Gate World, Beta HQ, Alereon Division **

Beta HQ lay nestled in the crook of two mountains, a fraction of a complete range spreading north and south across the continent. To the east, directly behind the base, was what the UNSC called the "Silent Cartographer". Apparently, the edifice contained the location of every important building on the planet. Scientists have been able to comprehend the data and locate each building, thanks to UNSC help.

Now that the Republic had shifted into an Empire, and now sworn enemies of the UNSC and CAS, things were a bit more complicated.

Noro discovered a flatland area perfect for an ideal LZ. He ordered his Task Force to land, and then everyone sprung into action.

"Fleet Master," called his lieutenant, General Kar 'Zarkanee. The tall Sangheili was clad in the elaborate golden armor of his rank, complete with a spiral headpiece. He bowed before he set foot in the room. "We have acquired the locations of the defenses around the base."

"Excellent," Noro said, inspecting the holographic map floating in front of his face. "Put it in."

The general complied, inserting the data disc into the port. Glowing yellow dots blinked around the perimeter of Beta HQ, in an orb formation.

"So they cage themselves in," he whispered, stroking his throat. "General, concentrate your forces on the western half. The others will not be able to move in time if you strike hard and fast. Secure the base then wait for my signal."

Kar grunted in assent and bowed.

"Will I have free reign, sir?" he asked, not able to keep a little eagerness out of his voice.

The Fleet Master chuckled approvingly.

"Of course," he said. "When the Arbiter arrives, however, we must _all _answer to him."

The general bowed and left.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_Sir, CAS forces have begun to move in. Requesting permission to engage, over._"

"Copy that, officer. Permission granted." Clone Commander Cody spoke into his earpiece.

He was seated inside the Control Tent, he and his officers huddled around the TAC map. Sure enough, red dots began to engage the outer defenses, slowly melding in with each other. Cody took off his helmet, peering outside the flap of the tent.

Thunder rumbled in the sky, and a fresh shower of rain fell on the forest. The clone shook his head. That was _not_ a good sign.

He shrugged, brushing away the superstition.

It wasn't like they were going to kick their boots up the Confederation's ass and say, "Shoo!"

The battle was going to be bloody.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The forest path was strewn with corpses, stained a number of different colors from the blood of different species. The surrounding forest was relatively intact, save for a few scorched trees and brushfires.

The clones had set up a blockade about half a mile from the primary defense spot. Special Operations Officer Arat 'Vorunee hurdled over a block of metal, impaling the gunner behind it with his Energy Sword. The clone cried out, falling limp in the Elite's blade.

The Sangheili officer snarled and withdrew it from the clone's corpse. Two clones behind turrets swiveled their weapons towards the Elite and fired.

The Elite bent and smashed an armored fist on the ground, locking his armor to its full degree. The lasers splashed onto him; he grunted from the heavy impact.

His commandos, fully cloaked, ignited their swords and slashed as one.

The clones on the turrets fell, weapons still steaming. The remaining clones on the path fired at the approaching CAS troops, committed to their position. Spec Ops Grunts wielding Fuel Rod Guns waddled over and fired.

The clones were hurled into the air, limbs flailing like marionettes.

"We are victorious!" one of the commandos yelled, lifting his energy sword into the air.

"Wait," the officer hissed, ears cocked.

He heard a steady boom from the forest ahead.

"Enemy tanks!" he announced, putting away his energy sword and reloading his Type-50 Directed Energy Rifle.

Three AT-TE walkers strode out of the foliage, looking more like insects than tanks. The lead walker positioned itself in front of the CAS troops and fired its top turret.

A bright red beam lanced into the alien's ranks, incinerating more than a few Unggoy. Arat roared and rolled out of the way, firing his heavy weapon as he righted himself. The plasma hit the skin of the tank, leaving a black mark.

Snorting, the Elite called for three commandos and charged. He sprinted into the thing's deep dead zone, igniting his sword along the way. He leaped on top of the walker, slicing the azure blade on the bottom of the long turret.

The back doors opened, two clone troopers marching out bearing blaster rifles. The troopers turned and fired at the Spec Ops officer. His shields flared, bearing the brunt of the shots. The Elite commandos tackled the clones, stabbing them with plasma daggers.

After they disabled the tank, they attached grenades on the exterior and found cover. The resounding boom left a ringing sound in the Elites' ears. Arat looked up from behind the tree.

The tank was a smoldering wreckage. The other two walkers continued firing into the CAS army, scattering the troops from the main unit. To make matters worse, three more AT-TEs climbed out from a ditch, joining the other two.

"Call headquarters! We need immediate assistance now! We have five Imperial AT-TEs blocking the road! We cannot proceed!" he shouted into the COM.

"_Wraiths heading to your position, officer,_" the operator replied.

Arat nodded, satisfied.

"Kathtanee, take four and draw the walker's fire! Hurry, so the Unggoy can blast them with the fuel guns!"

"Yes, officer."

The commando slunk into the brush, followed by four others. Soon, plasma fire erupted from the forest, peppering the walkers like water drops. Two AT-TEs swiveled into position.

A giant orb of smoldering plasma fell on top of the first AT-TE, crumpling it almost immediately.

Four Wraiths appeared on the road, mortars hurled into the air simultaneously. The walkers couldn't get around in time. They were blown to pieces, black carcasses on the brown soil. A clone screamed and dashed out of the wreckage, only to be cut down by plasma.

Arat lifted his sword and roared.

Now, they could advance.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The Arbiter stood calmly as the ship shuddered.

Two _Acclamator_-class assault ships hovered into view, turrets blazing menacingly. The _Ardent Flame_ had already claimed twelve Imperial ships, their metal carcasses burnt and broken. The Imperials had learned, however, and the next thing Thel Vadam knew fifty percent of the Imperial fleet had fired upon the _Reverence_-class cruiser.

"Arbiter, shields down to thirty percent and failing," one of the officer grunted.

"Life support?" Vadam asked.

"In crucial condition, my lord."

The Arbiter seethed inside. He longed to take the battle to the surface, where he would be more effective, but the surrounding armada was too large. It wouldn't be long before the Imperials won out.

_Damn them_, he thought, smashing a curled fist onto the control panel.

"My lord, multiple contacts approaching via Slipspace!"

Thel grinned.

Even before the utilitarian-looking crafts, hardly distinguishable against the black of space, arrived, the Arbiter knew the UNSC were finally here.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**UNSC **_**Landschneckt**_

Admiral Lou Renfield surveyed the battle raging around them. Spots of explosions bloomed amidst the fighting, and already Imperial and CAS ships were floating wrecks. The young American scratched the golden stubble on his chin.

He didn't like the prospect of fighting people he probably knew. He had met several Republic captains and admirals; having to ultimately obliterate them sent an ugly feeling running down his intestines.

"Arm Archer missile pods A through E. Get me a firing solution." he ordered.

"Aye, skipper," the light-skinned Japanese man said curtly. He and the weapons officers typed away furiously. "A through E armed and ready. Firing solution ready, sir."

"Fire."

"Firing missiles."

On screen, pods A through E opened, smoke exhaust trailing the high-powered rockets from the _Landschneckt _to the Imperial Star Destroyer.

The enemy, taken by surprise, could do nothing but accept the lethal projectiles. The rockets hit, causing the destroyer's shields to flicker violently.

"Cut main engines and fire maneuvering thrusters, lieutenant," Renfield told Kurosaki. "Rotate and track the ship so that we're facing it. Arm the MAC cannon."

"MAC capacitors charging," Kurosaki said. "And…complete."

The Supercarrier turned about, its forward tip vertical to the weakened Star Destroyer. The destroyer, anticipating the move, changed course, rotating away quickly.

It was too late, however, and Renfield gave the order.

"FIRE!"

The bridge lights dimmed, and the _Landschneckt _shuddered. The red-hot cannon shot through space, a metal slug capable of tearing most human ships apart. At a speed of an upgraded fifty thousand meters per second.

The MAC cannon collided. The Star Destroyer reeled backwards, shields failing with a weak flicker. Renfield caught a quick glance at a terrible hole in the ship's prow, and then it exploded.

The bridge erupted in celebration. Renfield clapped Kurosaki on the shoulders, shouting congratulations in his ears. The man blushed but thanked the admiral.

"Okay, kids," Renfield said, raising his voice. They all seemed to ignore the fact that most of the bridge officers were older than him by a couple of decades. "This thing isn't over yet, so focus."

"Yes, sir." they responded.

"Admiral, Imperial battle groups approaching on an attack vector," Siegfried stated, appearing on the holoprojector. He twirled his broadsword like a baton, seemingly nonchalant. "They've readied their lateral turrets. And judging by the looks on their faces, they're furious."

"Thank you, Siegfried," Lou responded. "Inform Captain Ayala of the incoming force."

"Aye, captain." he replied. A second later, he answered, "He's bringing Battle Group Tomahawk with him."

"Excellent," the admiral said. "Now, let's assist the good Arbiter and bore a hole through the whole damn Imperial fleet."

"Good thinking, admiral," the AI said. "I was just about to say the same thing."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**UNSC **_**Conquistador**_

"Sir, hull breaches on decks three and five. Comms dish barely operable. Sealing sections."

"Good, Andreas. Starboard thrusters, bring us closer to that ship."

"Aye, sir." the officer replied.

The _Conquistador_ rumbled, its large bulk drifting nearer to the _Acclamator_-class assault ship. Battle Group Tomahawk had just engaged the Imperial force, clashing in a titanic trade of plasma and metal. They had just blew apart a Venator when the other Star Destroyer attacked.

"Prep the ODSTs, Manuel," he told the ship's primary "smart" AI. "The Spartans, too. Ready the boarding craft."

"_Si,_ captain. _Es todo_?"

"No. Ready Archer pods A through F. Get me a targeting solution…"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"All ODST forces converge to boarding pods. All SPARTAN-IV personnel converge to boarding pods."

Vince nodded, absorbing Manuel's words through the speakers. Klaxons blared as the troopers hustled through the corridors, triple-checking their equipment. He looked at Carl, who nodded.

The two Spartans raced towards the ejection tubes, easily outrunning the ODSTs. They reached the pods first, inspecting their equipment one last time. Vince inserted a fresh mag into his assault rifle.

Carl hefted his treasured M247H HMG, jumping into the pod with a heavy thump. Vince followed, punching in the controls for the door. The entrance closed, and they waited.

"We do this quick and fast," Carl said, eyes locked onto the silver-grey star destroyer. The hangar bay shields had been disabled, leaving it open for insertion.

He had left Naboo a short while ago, joining Carl on the _Conquistador_. Paul and Raj were still on the _Landschneckt_, while Harold and Courtney waited on the planet. They had taken Xavier's death hard, and they still refused to talk about it. Vince sighed. They were probably better off on Naboo, where they could assist the fleet there.

Carl seemed to sense his friend's thoughts. He nudged him on the knee with his gigantic foot.

"Focus, Vince. I don't want you dying on me," the big Spartan warned. "We already lost one of us."

"I know," Vince snapped, a little more spiteful than he meant it to be. "I mean, I understand. We'll secure the craft then return."

"Good," Carl replied, satisfied.

The pods ejected with a shudder, sending them flying into space. Some of the turrets on the star destroyer swiveled and fired, taking down more than a few boarding craft. Luckily, the Spartans' pod made it, crashing into the hangar below.

The doors opened, and Carl lumbered out, spraying the room with automatic fire.

Two clone engineers, unlucky enough to be right in front of the pod, fell as the rounds stitched up their bodies. Flesh burst inside their armor, staining the white armor crimson with blood.

Vince jumped out behind him, taking down a pilot with his rifle. A pod crashed down beside them, and five ODSTs sprinted out, moving in perfect form. They focused their fire on three clone troopers entering from a side hatch.

The Imperial troopers were dead before they hit the ground.

One of the ODSTs approached the two SPARTAN-IVs.

"Sergeant Major Fulton reporting for duty," he said in a Georgia drawl. "What can me and my boys do for you, chief?"

"We need to secure the bridge," Carl stated. "Let's head over there before any more Imperials show up."

The group moved, entering the side hatch. They stepped over the bodies of the clones gingerly.

They raced down the halls, dropping any clones that got in their way. As they turned a corner, two blue-marked clones leapt out from behind a power conduit, blasters firing like crazy.

An ODST screamed as five bolts turned his chest into burnt metal-flesh. He dropped to the floor, convulsing. The 501st trooper unsheathed a vibro blade and slit another ODST's neck. Fulton snarled and clocked the clone in the face, putting a dent in the armor. The major clenched his fists, revealing shining brass knuckles, and punched the dazed clone in the gut. The other aimed and fired at Vince, moving sideways with amazing speed.

The shots dissipated against his shields, and the lieutenant fired his rifle in an arc.

The rounds sent the clone on his can, but that didn't stop him from continuing to fire. Vince lifted his rifle and finished him off just as his shields ran out. There was a grunt from Fulton, who had his helmet off. He withdrew his combat knife from the ARC's neck and let him drop.

"Balisong," he commented, lifting his intricate blade. "Always comes in handy."

He slumped to the ground. The two remaining ODSTs were on him like lightning, turning him over quickly.

"He's got two stab wounds on his chest and lower abdomen," one of the troopers, the team medic, concluded. "I'm certain he'll make it, just let me patch him up."

"Hurry it up, soldier." Vince said, reloading. "There's no telling how many Imps can pop up."

"I'm surprised they've got ARCs on this dump," Carl commented, turning the dead clone over with his foot. "Must've been dropped here against their will."

Vince looked at the dead bodies, trying not to picture his friend, Dig, in his head. The ARC had been killed by Dooku at Station 13, the Sith having impaled him through the chest.

Fulton gasped as the medic sprayed biofoam into the wounds. He pawed at the soldier, but he kept on going.

"Sorry, sir, just a little more. He got you good."

"Pfft," the sergeant replied. "I've been worse."

The two ODSTs propped him on their shoulders, but Fulton waved them off. They continued onwards, the sergeant managing to keep up. They came across the scene of a battle, blood staining the white walls.

Three ODSTs were lying dead on the ground, clutching their weapons. Five clones were spread out, red bullet holes dotting their breastplates. Spent brass cases lay scattered on the floor. Two of the slain clones were slumped against a large door, marked by a red light.

"This must be the bridge," Carl stated, inspecting the locked door. "Looks like these ODSTs got here first. Too bad they died."

"Sarge, isn't that Captain Novak?" the medic exclaimed.

"Looks like it," Fulton said grimly. "Old boy's got a wife and kid back on Earth."

"Well, let's make their lives count." Vince said.

Carl placed a charge against the door, then ordered them to clear out. A minute later, the device detonated, blowing the metal doors apart.

"It's showtime!" Carl cried, firing into the smoky room.

The smoke cleared, revealing the large bridge area most star destroyers were equipped with. The officers had armed themselves with blasters, and the captain was on the far side, wielding a DC-15. Seven clone troopers were surrounding him.

Vince pulled the cap off a frag and hurled it into the chamber. The blast sent a clone officer into the air, trailing blood. Vince fired, taking down two clones with precise shots to the head.

Carl sprayed the room, slaying the remaining officers. He repositioned, grunting as his shields took multiple hits. A clone chucked a thermal detonator towards the two Spartans. Vince rolled out of the way, but Carl was too slow.

His shields went down, leaving him vulnerable. The ODSTs came in, returning fire. The clones fell back, shielding their captain even in death. The man, a grey-haired old male, stood his ground, firing the DC-15 like an expert. The other ODST fell, his head a charred mess. The medic peppered the Imperial captain with a battle rifle.

He dropped, dead.

Carl shook himself, shining with a golden aura as his shields recharged.

"Alright boys," he grunted. "Let's set the charges and get the hell out of here."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**3 hours later…**

First Sergeant and Fifth Platoon were prone, rifle barrels tucked against their grimy cheeks and propped on the ridge in front of them.

"Bridges! Sniper on the tree, nine 'o clock!"

"Got it, sarge," the team sharpshooter replied, aiming down the Oracle scope of his sniper rifle.

There was a resounding crack, and a limp figure in white fell from an oak tree on the other side of the grassy plain.

Fifth Platoon, "Holloway's Boys", were in a ditch on the side of the road, picking off Imperial troops on the far side of the flatlands in front of them. The plain was the only way to reach the objective, the defensive outpost barring the attackers from Beta HQ.

"Colonel," Holloway barked into his earpiece, flinching as a plasma shot hit the ground in front of his eyes. He blinked away the dirt from his eyelashes. "We're effectively pinned in this position, sir. We need reinforcements if we're to even get a glimpse of the outpost. The Brig. Sergeant is KIA, so I'm the CO here."

"_Our forces our spread thin, soldier_," Colonel Stephenson replied. "_The only ground troops near your area are the 105__th__, and they're busy with the other outpost._"

"We don't need other infantry units, colonel. We need _heavy_ support."

"_Tanks? The 4__th__ Armored Cavalry is a bit near your location, but last I heard of them, they were engaging enemy walkers. They might be a little short of numbers._"

"That's fine, sir. We'll need any we can get."

_"Affirmative. I'll give them the heads-up. Over."_

Holloway cut the connection.

"Alright, boys," he called over the din. "It'll be a while before we get some help. We have to hold here as long as we can."

"SIR! Plasma mortar!"

A boiling mass of white-hot plasma sprung from the horizon, falling in an arc towards the marines' location.

"Scatter!" Holloway cried, rising and sprinting back.

The marines complied, but the mortar hit. It collided on the sergeant's previous spot, sending the charred corpses of three privates rolling down the ditch. Holloway cursed, squinting over the plain.

"How the hell did they get that kind of plasma mortar?" one of the marines exclaimed.

"The Covenant," Holloway snarled. "They're here."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX'

_**Unmerciful Fist**_

The High Prophet of Reclamation sat calmly on his throne, red-orange spots of explosion reflecting on his dark pupils.

They had arrived an hour ago, immediately engaging the shocked Allies. The _Unmerciful Fist_ had racked up a number of seven kills: Two UNSC and five CAS. The fleet had engaged, a small fraction parting and deploying ground troops. Alarus and Retribution had seen to the Imperial defense; nothing would step foot in Beta HQ alive. The Covenant-Imperial force would put up a staunch resistance against their enemies.

"Honored Prophets, we are receiving a transmission." one of the Jiralhanae officers said from his control seat.

"From whom, Communications Master?" Enlightenment croaked.

"The Arbiter, o great one."

Reclamation grinned.

"Patch them through."

The tall form of the Arbiter fizzled into view on the holoprojector, a device most commonly associated with Truth's transmissions to his troops.

"Worms," Thel Vadam hissed. "Insects. You dare to revive something that is already dead?"

"The Covenant?" Reclamation replied, feigning surprise. "I assure you, my dear Arbiter, the Covenant is alive and well. Deprived of its former power, but alive all the same."

"Not for long," Thel snarled. "I am glad you came here. I shall have the pleasure of seeing you face-to-face. Seeing the life flee your eyes as I run you through with my blade. Yours, the Brutes, and the Yan'me's putrid stain on this universe will be cleansed forever."

The Jiralhanae officers rose from their seats, fur bristling and growling in fury.

"Control your pets, Reclamation," the Arbiter sneered.

"When we succeed, Vadam, and succeed we will, I will be the victor." Reclamation proclaimed, leaning forward. He locked gazes with the Arbiter's hologram. "I shall be the one to witness your death. I will deal with the humans, then this empire, but I will deal with the Sangheili last. I will prolong you agony for so long you shall be screaming for release. I will force you to watch as we burn Sanghelious to molten glass. I will create a dungeon for you and Vadum, and there we will show you the most _exquisite_ of tortures.

"Then, at last, you will die."

The Arbiter processed this, deciding whether or not he would reply with an equally impressive threat.

"Know this, Reclamation and Enlightenment," he said at last, deathly quiet. "I will come for you. I _will _kill you. Say your petty threats, rest assured, you _will_ be dead. You will not deceive anyone anymore. Know that. I am coming for you."

His figure fizzled out.

Enlightenment exhaled involuntarily. Reclamation fixed him a steely glare. The old San 'Shyuum cowered in his throne.

"Navigations Master, prep rear thrusters." The High Prophet said. "We shall take our battle to the enemy."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**AN: Sorry for the weak ending :\. I lost it near this passage, so I decided to finish up here. Also, try to read my other story: The MiddleEarth Campaign! It's an LOTR/Narnia crossover that I've attempted. I've gotten positive reviews so far, and I'd like it if you gave it a try. I won't abandon Breaking Point, so expect some updates from time to time. I tried to make each update for each of my stories periodical, but it didn't really work out. The chapter uploads might be a bit random, so bear with me. As always, please R&R! **


	7. Boiling Point

**AN: This update has been a long time coming. I feel terrible I've kept you guys waiting for so long, and I feel even more terrible that this chapter might not live up to expectations. It took me a staggering few months to finish this, and its mediocre (at least I think so). Well, enjoy!**

The aft hatch opened, its exhaust fuels emitting dense smoke. Lieutenant Vince stood in the blood tray, the incoming light slowly revealing his MJOLNIR-clad form. The open exit revealed a forest path, its sides covered in dense foliage. Lilacs and exotic flowers hung out onto the dirt trail, and a few colored insects flew in and out. It seemed a paradise to the battle-worn SPARTAN-IV. On the path, however, it was a different matter.

Dozens of mangled bodies littered the way, caked in their own precious life blood. Ruined clone troopers lay side by side with charred UNSC Marines, brothers in death. It was obvious that a troop of Marines had cut through the front lines only to be slaughtered mere yards away from the objective. Vince looked away.

He hopped out of the Pelican, closely followed by Carl and the ODSTs that infiltrated the Republic destroyer. Fulton, the wounded sergeant, looked good as new as he and his squad cleared the path. A quick spot to the medic lines had patched him up in no time. Carl lumbered over the trail, his heavy metal-encased feet creating deep prints in the soil. He hefted his turret, took a look around, and signaled the OK.

As they moved up the hill, Beta HQ could clearly be seen. It was large, a Forerunner mega structure modified to fit the Republic's standards. Bands of red and white ran down the gray exterior walls, not unlike the Venator-class star destroyers the GAR so dearly loved. Four edifices jutted out of an obelisk-like main building, connected through elaborate bridges supported by anti-gravity machines. A spear of energy stabbed into the sky from the main building, and then promptly vanished.

Beta HQ, in its entirety, spanned two miles wide and long. It was propped up against a sheer rock cliff, given a strategic advantage with its high altitude. Thousands of soldiers could defend the structure and possibly even decimate an outnumbering force.

"Hot damn," Fulton whispered, clearing his visor to reveal his awed expression. "We've got to take that son of a bitch?"

"Looks like it," Carl grunted. The huge SPARTAN-IV plodded over to the edge of the rocky ledge, eyes fixated on Beta HQ.

Vince could literally feel the anxiety leaking from the weary ODSTs. The small six-man team and two Spartans was an efficient adversary, but against a position this massive, there was little chance.

"Carl," Vince said. He pointed to the structure. "It sure is big, but we can use its size to our advantage. There's no way that they can mobilize their forces in time to catch such a small force such as ours. We can enter, tear through anyone who stands in our way, secure the control room, and wait for additional forces."

"Sounds like a plan," Carl remarked. "How long do you think we can hold, though?"

"We're going to have to hold for a pretty long time. I'm not sure about the Republic's reaction time, but I hope they're not too fast. I don't want angry clones swarming all over our position."

They were silent for a moment, the sounds of pitched battle echoing over the wide valley. The UNSC and CAS were doing their best to reach Beta HQ, but the Republic had the fort well-defended. The only reason the Pelican bearing them was able to get through was because of a minor error in enemy movement that provided an opening in the lines.

Now, it was up to them.

"Okay men," Carl began, gathering up his team, "Here's what we're going to do…"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

CT-12370A peered through his rifle's crosshairs, on guard for any enemies that happened to walk into his line of fire.

The clone sniper was perched on a grassy ledge jutting out of a valley wall, sniper rifle at hand. He had picked a good position; his camouflaged armor helped him meld into the brush to his rear. He had set up a few hours ago, his spotter in a safe position to his right.

"Two targets, coming in from the left," his spotter told him in a quiet tone via the COM link. "One ODST hiding behind the tree line, 700 meters."

"Roger that, 419," the sniper replied. "Zoning in."

He adjusted his dial. Sure enough, he could see the black matte figure of an ODST crouching beside an oak tree, rifle pressed against his chest. Another one stood to his rear, waving his hands in, presumably, UNSC call signs.

"Strange," he murmured. "419, give me some intel about the other target. What's he doing?"

"Not too sure, but I'll give it a-"

_CRACK!_

The COM resulted in static.

The sniper threw his headpiece to the ground in disgust. The fool had gotten himself popped. He was the damn spotter; he was supposed to inform him about this kind of thing.

He surveyed the low valley, checking every grassy corner and boulder in a calculated wide sweep. He stopped, seeing something weird.

Another ODST appeared in his scope, bearing what looked like a UNSC sniper rifle. The clone cursed and pulled the trigger, just when the other did.

Something punched into his chest, splintering his armor in that spot. He cried out, feeling the life ebb out of him faster and faster.

He gave one last breath.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"I'm okay," the trooper gasped. "He just grazed my collar, that's all…"

"Yeah, a superheated plasma bolt traveling at almost the speed of light merely grazed your shoulder," the medic scoffed. "Hold still, it looks nasty."

"Can he operate?" Fulton grunted almost indifferently.

"I'm sure he can, but not as efficiently. I'll have to patch him up and give him adequate rest in order for him to work as well as he could."

"I can still shoot, sarge," the young ODST breathed painfully. "I don't have to run; just give me a spot and I'll take 'em all out!"

"I 'ppreciate the oo-rah, kid," Carl interjected. "But I don't think you'll be doing much shooting from now on. Medic, fix him for another minute, but after then I'm afraid we head out."

The medic blanched, but nodded. He didn't want the victim to be taxed so much, but it was inevitable.

Vince helped the medic support the wounded man up. The shot man grimaced, but he waved them away.

"My legs are fine," he snapped.

Soon, the group was slinking through the forest once more.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The Elites leapt over the durasteel barricade, brandishing shining energy swords at the shocked clone troopers. They charged the unprepared line, cutting into the troops like alien scythes.

Captain Rex cursed, firing his low-on-ammo DC-15 into the oncoming CAS soldiers like a madman. He was in control over the last outpost protecting Beta HQ from the invaders. If he failed, then enemies would come pouring in like army ants into the vital facility.

"Blast 'em!" he cried to his remaining men.

He looked back just in time to see a towering Elite lunge at him with astonishing speed.

His training kicked in, and he ducked and rolled to avoid the deadly stab. He rose to his feet, emptying his reserves into the shielded back of the alien. It roared and doubled back, striking with a ferocious undercut. He leaned to the side, feeling the heat of the blade through his torn armor.

Rex tackled it, bringing down its sword arm with a clenched fist. He withdrew his vibro-blade and struck its neck. The knife passed through the shields, slicing into the Elite's major artery. It threw the clone captain off, clutching its neck wildly.

Rex rolled way, looking up to see the Elite finally die.

There was no time to celebrate his brush with death, however, and he turned around. Most of the Elites had gained the upper hand, capturing the turrets and turning them against their former wielders. The clones fell back east, firing as they did so.

"Retreat to the center!" Rex cried hoarsely, lobbing a thermal detonator into the horde of CAS troops. He was rewarded with an explosion and the sound of screams.

The clones fled into the forest, their dirty white forms stark against the green foliage. Rex realized that this made them easier targets, and many a clone fell to the deadly Sangheili carbines. He cursed himself even as the secure shadow of Beta HQ fell over his body. He was given a clear order, and he had failed.

The side entrance to the facility opened, with two heavy turrets set up on either side of the door. The clones manning them opened up, mowing down the CAS troops that pursued the fleeing Imperial soldiers.

"Move, move, move!" Rex cried, pushing his men into the entrance. "Hurry up!"

The aliens stopped at the edge of the forest, firing wildly at the looming building. The turret to the left of the captain exploded, the clone's dying screams sending a chill down his spine.

"Don't worry about me," the surviving turret operator gritted. "Just get inside!"

Rex gave a silent thanks to the brave clone and leapt into the doorway. He reached over to the console and locked the metal entrance. When he was finished, an explosion sounded, muffled through the barrier. The last turret was eliminated.

Thankfully, the upper defenses had just been activated, and more turrets unleashed upon the attacking CAS. Rex leaned against the wall, exhausted.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Vincent hauled himself over the balustrade, barreling into the duo of clones that were unlucky enough to be right in his path. Before they could recover, he snapped the neck of the first one and kicked the other in the chest.

He both heard and felt bones crack as the clone flew into the adjacent wall. The soldier slumped, either unconscious or dead. Vince sensed the other clones jump at his sudden arrival. He turned and rushed them before they could react, crossing a dozen meters in the span of seconds.

He sliced his bare combat knife across the first clone's neck, splattering his armor with scarlet blood. The other two opened fire, DC-15's on full auto. The blasts splashed against his superior shields like water, bringing them down fifty percent. Vince grabbed the two and bashed their heads together. Their helmets clanked, and their T-shaped visors fragmented. He withdrew his silenced pistol and popped them in the heads for good measure. After that was over, he flashed the OK sign on his HUD.

Carl lumbered out of an elevator, clone blood staining his humongous armor. The six ODSTs followed suit, the injured one supported by Fulton and the medic.

"Trouble?" Vince commented, noting the blood.

"A few stubborn clones wouldn't let us in," Carl grunted. "Of course, I politely kicked down the door and dropped all seven of them."

"Where to now?" Fulton cut into the Spartans' banter. "We got part of the western wall taken care of."

"We have to find the control room for the facility," Vince replied. "Knowing Forerunners, it's probably in the center of the building surrounded by a goddamn maze and an impregnable wall."

"Sounds fun," Fulton remarked drily. "When do we start?"

"There's no time like the present," Carl put in.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Holloway jumped behind the tree trunk, feeling the residual heat wash over his body. He had forgotten how deadly those thermal detonators were. Cursing colorfully, he limped behind the wooden barrier, quickly joined by two of his men.

"Sir, they've got us pinned," one of them, Pvt. Zapata, whimpered pitifully. "What do we do now, sarge, what do we do now?"

"Quit your bitchin' and act like a man," Holloway snapped, inserting a fresh magazine into his BR. "We're marines, this is our element."

The young Latino nodded hesitantly, wincing as another explosion sounded in the forest. Holloway breathed in and out, relaxing his hyped nerves. He peered over, sight partially obscured by the trunk. He could see vague white figures dashing in and out of the underbrush, firing their deadly red and blue lasers. He lifted his BR, scoped in on one, and promptly double tapped him. The 9.5x40mm shots punched into the clone's head, dropping him where he stood. Already many of his brethren lay dead on the soil, littering the ground like patches of red-stained snow. Holloway ducked back, a stream of lasers drawn to his position.

The other Marine beside him screamed, the plasma throwing him backwards a few meters. He fell against a boulder, completely charred and smoked. Zapata began to cry.

"Damn greenhorns," the sergeant muttered under his breath.

He heard his COM crackle as someone attempted to get through.

"This is Captain Carlson with the Ninth, we're pinned on a rock valley just north of your position…requesting backup, we're totally outnumbered…can't hold for longer."

"This is First Sergeant Holloway," he replied amidst the din of battle. "Negative. Sorry Carlson, but we've also got us a situation here. Imps jumped us just as we were about to head to the Beta HQ. Looks like you're on your own for now."

"Affirmative, Holloway. Wish us luck."

The link cut.

"You bet," the sergeant whispered back. "Oh, and yeah, we're doing just fine. No need to wish us luck too."

"Pardon?" Zapata asked.

"Nothing, soldier, just start firing for God's sake!" Holloway yelled, spraying ferociously at the direction of the clones. He was rewarded with a few agonized screams. More lasers peppered his cover, however, and he realized that this wasn't the best place to set up shop. "Get up, Zapata, we're moving."

Before he could protest, Holloway sprinted out of cover. A hail of red lasers flew in from his left, miraculously missing him by mere inches. He leapt behind a group of boulders, joining a few smart Marines who had chosen the spot. A pained scream turned him around.

Zapata was on the ground, clutching his gut tightly. His face was drawn back with utter agony, and his cried loud and terrifying. Holloway closed his eyes, hearing the boy's screams die away just as he did. Holloway signaled his men.

"Frag out!" he cried hoarsely.

A dozen fragmentation grenades rained down on the unsuspecting clones. Sequential booms sounded soon after, shaking the ground itself. Holloway risked a glance over the edge of his cover. He spied a few weary clones retreating back into the underbrush. "Now's our chance, boys! Give 'em hell!"

The Marines dashed out of their cover, firing into the clones' previous lines. The surviving Imperial troops were quickly killed, dropped by the Marines' accurate fire.

As they finished, the towering structure of Beta HQ loomed over the treetops.

They were here.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_Sir, the 11__th__ Marine Expeditionary Force is on the move._"

"Roger that. Keep it going, soldier, I want this over by nightfall."

Lt. Gen. Matthew Kilpatrick calmly watched the miniature figures move steadily on the holographic TACMAP, shrewd eyes keen and alert. He inspected every subtle movement and posture, scrutinizing the advance to the highest degree. He wanted this one to be done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Of course, the fulfillment of that desire lay in a small margin, but Kilpatrick found that to be his element. He enjoyed tight spaces, even in battle.

"I want 10th Company to move farther east," he began, chewing his giant cigar thoughtfully. The thing brushed slightly against his bushy white mustache as he spoke. "We do this simply: Initial dampening fire and send in the troops. The 10th need to be there to provide covering fire for the attacking lines."

"Sir, CAS forces have moved into the area south of the installation," informed his assistant. "Should we request for their-"

"That will be unnecessary," Kilpatrick retorted, straining to keep the bitter snap out of his voice. "_Humans _will accomplish this task, not aliens."

He felt a pang of pain in his heart as he recalled his young son going off to join the marines back during the War. The pain still burned as he recalled the man in an Army uniform standing outside his home, delivering the terrible news: "_I am very sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Kilpatrick, but your son, Connor Kilpatrick, was killed in battle…"_ His squad was ambushed on Sigma Octanus IV; apparently the spooks had given them poor intel on a certain museum located in the heart of one of the planet's major cities. A duo of Hunters had wiped them out.

He dismissed those thoughts from his head. There's nothing worse than a leader lowering his own morale. He took his cigar from his mouth and glared at the TACMAP once again.

"Initiate the attack," he growled, placing his beloved _Romeo y Julieta_ cigar back into his mouth.

"We're a go," the grim-faced man spoke into his headpiece. "All units, prepare to attack…"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The forest was alive with the sound of explosions, gunfire, the whirring of DC-15s and the anguish screams of the dying as the 11th Marine Expeditionary Force moved in on their target: Beta HQ. They advanced through the underbrush, supported by tanks and air units, assaulting the heavily defended base. Heavy turrets were mounted on the walls, protected by ancient battlements that could not be broken. The area around the base was swamped by clone troopers; they had given nearly all their forces to protecting the exterior of Beta HQ. They had set up duracrete barricades along the perimeter, providing the GAR sufficient cover.

Captain Rex activated the thermal detonator clutched in his hand, stepped back, and lobbed it. The red orb flew and bounced off a tree trunk, landing amidst a group of UNSC Marines. The soldiers skillfully leapt out of the way; all but three. They were promptly caught in the searing heat, their bodies charred and barbecued in an instant. The experienced clone felt an unfamiliar feeling of discomfort grip him, but it was gone as soon as it had come. He was killing troops in the name of the Chancellor, and the Republic. _No, wait_, he thought grimly,_ the Emperor and the Empire._ He resisted a scoff and lifted his blaster, aiming and emptying his clip into an advancing marine.

There was no room for pause, however, as something huge rolled out from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Rex suppressed a curse. The M808B Main Battle Tank fired once, an ear-splitting crack that split the very air. A turret to Rex's right exploded, the fire devouring two clones in its wake. The ground rumbled, and Rex stumbled.

The Scorpion, aptly named, had been a tremendous help for the Republic during the Clone Wars; its almost impenetrable hide and firepower proved the downfall of many a droid entrenchment. Now, Rex surmised bitterly, their once helpful allies were using it against them. The detachment of Torrent Company was in for a rough fight.

The huge barrel of the tank swiveled once again, this time aiming for an AT-TE stationed near the front entrance. The tank fired. The AT-TE crumpled under the massive kinetic force, its hull crinkling like paper from the blow. The Imperial tank, having been gutted cleanly front to rear, fell with a heavy clank. This time, Rex let the curse flow from his mouth unbidden. The AT-TE had been one of the few armor support they had received; everything else was spread too thin.

The barrel turned slowly and stopped. Rex stood frozen for a moment, staring down the length of the tank's deadly barrel. Then, out of his trance, he jumped out of the way just as the tank fired.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Vince twisted the clone's head once. The delicate bones connecting the soldier's head to his body snapped easily, a muffled grunt the last thing from his lips. Well, that and a mouthful of blood. The Spartan dropped the clone to the floor, letting the corpse join eleven of his brethren in the blood-stained corridor. Vincent, Carl, and the ODSTs advanced onwards, stepping over the Imperials' bodies.

Security had been relatively light in the winding hallways of Beta HQ. Most of their troops were sent to engage the enemy on the building's exterior, and the place was so damn big that not many clones were together in one spot. The UNSC team had cut a swath through the edifice, leaving a trail of dead clones in their path. Vincent hadn't needed to fire his weapons once inside Beta HQ.

"Hell, the whole damn war'll be over by the time we find this fucking control room. Why do we need to secure it in the first place?" Fulton complained. "The ground-pounders outside are going to take all the kills while we're stuck hopping around-"

Ten clone troopers rounded the corner, DC-15's held tightly in the ready positions. Fulton cursed and pulled the trigger of his rifle, backpedaling furiously as he did. The lead clone dropped dead. The others scattered, yelling out orders and firing plasma at the UNSC entourage. Carl grunted and aimed his massive gun at the clones. He fired.

Two flew back, blood trailing their descent like water from a sprinkler. The troopers regrouped and retaliated, peppering Carl with plasma. They splashed off his shields, but the Spartan sidled out of the way. The ODSTs fired into the mass of clones, felling one more. Vince, busy snapping the neck of one who had dared charge him, noted the glowing red ball rolling towards the boots of a firing ODST.

"Look ou-!" he began.

The thermal detonator exploded.

The unfortunate ODST was lost amidst the raging inferno that consumed his body, burning him to a crisp and emitting an acrid smell into the air. The smell wafted into Vince's air vents, and he wrinkled his nose. The ODSTs backed up, disheartened by the immediate loss of a comrade.

"Time to return the favor," the Spartan muttered, grinning. He lobbed a grenade at the clones. They noticed it too late, and they went flying into the air, their armor splintered and bloodied from the shrapnel. The last clone emptied his clip into the UNSC soldiers and dashed away, yelling out unintelligible phrases. Vince moved forward, spanning the gap in a second. He withdrew his combat knife and stuck it into the clone's neck. The soldier writhed and gurgled in the Spartan's tremendous grasp, then became still. Vince sighed and shook his knife free of blood.

He glanced at Fulton.

"I'm fine," he gasped. "Just a little winded. Damn clones can fight, is all."

They stepped over the mass of white corpses and rounded the corner.

A squad of ARCs stood by the carefully constructed barricade, several dozen clone troopers at their backs. Two mounted turrets swiveled and faced the Spartans and the ODSTs.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Fulton screamed, pulling back a gawking trooper out of harm's way.

The clones fired.

Two ODSTs fell to the hail of plasma fire immediately. They were dead before they hit the ground. Vince felt the rounds hit him hard. His shields depleted in an instant, and his suit was beginning to get very hot.

A strong hand gripped him by the collar and hauled him out of the hot zone. Carl shook him and tapped a finger on his visor. "You alright, Five?" he grunted.

"Well enough," he answered, blinking as sweat ran down to his eyes. "Thanks for that."

"Sure. Just don't stand still like that again. You're a SPARTAN-IV."

Vince nodded.

He was a SPARTAN-IV, yes. But he doubted if they were going to get past this one.

**AN: Hope you guys liked it? Thanks for all the reviewers out there who've been on my mind for a while, and I'll try to update as soon as I can!**


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